The way the sun…I think it was the sun, created a section of lighter pink on the hallway carpet. It didn’t even look like the sun was in a place to beam in that way. The appearance, the angle, the way it was shaded in a smoky sort of way, all captured something that remains in my subconscious.
I immediately felt the sadness of grief, the moment I noticed it. In my desire to know what this was while walking back and forth, I’d look for a bit then look away. Go do something else, look again and look away. The grief felt more intense with each time I glanced at the faded light. And I wanted to know what it was about and where it was coming from.
My paternal grandmother’s house came to mind and maybe in her house, there was a time of day and a window in her house that allowed the sun to shine on one of her rugs in a similar way. But I don’t know if that’s true.
I just know I thought of her house. And when I think of her house, I think of her, and the most prominent memory I have of her is a small event that happened often.
In the dining room, next to the doorway that led immediately to the kitchen, I can see myself standing there. I’m a small child and my grandmother is a tall and thin woman. She is holding a freshly opened box of cookies and bending just a little so I can see inside the box, to make my choice.
Back in the present moment, I opened the front door to take a look for our cat. But the only cat out there was the neighbor’s round tabby, napping on the porch.
I said hi and then told him he wasn’t the one I was looking for. I asked if he’d seen his best friend. (Our cat.) Right after that, I couldn’t get the theme song from “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father” out of my head.