Dear Stella,

I am so sorry about this morning! When I walked in the kitchen and saw you in the sink, I blurted out, "Stella!"  That woke up Sally, of course (though she said she was already awake). 

Then when Sally was bent over you, smiling, scolding, you gave me the cat death stare. 

I've felt bad all day. I really didn't mean to get you in trouble. Believe me, I do things all the time that would get me in trouble if people found out. It was just such a shock to see you at eye level when you're normally a stay-on-the-floor kind of cat (well trained, thankfully). But I've seen you jump, so I shouldn't be surprised. 

Anyway, please forgive me. I won't give you away next time, or maybe I'll just pretend not to see you. (I'm a big push over when it comes to children and animals.)  

Please keep in mind that I'm not a cat person, but you really are a super cool cat. Maybe even part dog.

Julie 

  

                                                      

Lost, found, and left items

Things leave and reappear in my life, seemingly without me. 

Things that want to be lost, no matter what: Shortly after deciding to leave SCAD, the school where I'd taught for nine years, I went to my nephew's wedding in Dallas. The afternoon of the wedding, my partner and I were in an Uber running an errand. I was wearing my SCAD baseball hat -- one of my favorites -- and had this weird feeling that I wouldn't be able to hold on to it. Of course I left it in the Uber. Maybe symbolically I was letting go or feeling oddly guilty for leaving the "mother" institution (SCAD is a major presence and source of prestige in Savannah). Whatever the reason, I couldn't have held on to that thing and I knew it. 

Things that just won't be thrown out: These are usually very sweet connections to important people that I've convinced myself to donate or toss. It reappears, often in the magic space of my car trunk. I was going to give away a skort that my sister gave me, for example. She wore it during our last visit, then in one of our many clothes discussions, took it off and said it would look better on me. I disagreed when I got home. Despite a couple trips to Goodwill it stubbornly remained in the trunk. Now it's safe in my drawer, waiting to be worn and remind me of sis.

Things not meant to be lost, so they reappear: A prime example is a small gold angel (it's flat; I think it used to be on a necklace) that I kept on my dresser. My partner had given it to me. I think that the angel was one of his "found" items. He has a keen eye for discarded things that others might enjoy (that's just his nature). When he used to rent out properties people would leave things behind and gifts came in abundance. I got a beautiful pair of boots that way. A few months ago I moved and swept the angel into a Kroger bag with all its friends on the top of my dresser. When I re-assembled them at the new place, I was wadding up the Kroger bag and out fell the angel. Now I keep a closer eye on it. 

Some things just have a spirit of their own.