Basho’s Back
Last night, this email exchange with Ansie:
Me: Maybe I should go back and get him. But then what?
Ansie: Then you love him and feel his soft body against yours and listen to the sweet little noises he makes when he is asleep. And you decide what next when there is truly no time left for love. If it was me (and I know it isn’t), I would hold on to every little bit of love for as long as possible because in the end that is the only thing that really matters.
I told AE I was going to go get him back, and she wrote back, “I felt such a surge of relief – for you & Manko but especially for Basho – when I read this, my throat closed up and tears came.” Me too. So as soon as classes were over, I drove up there and got him. What a day for it! The sky is Texas blue and the sun is just warm enough to raise a little line of sweat on my upper lip. The wildflowers are spinning in the wind–intense mounds of blue and red and pink and yellow. Great silver Brahma cattle lie in the sweet spring grass, and I flung a CD of Bach in the car radio and filled my eyes, ears, and mind with joy. Once again, my Buddhist inner teacher has clapped her hands in front of my face and said, “Wake Up!” I was lost in the future. The only sane thing to do is BE HERE NOW. Was I doing that? No. I took Basho to a new home because of something I THINK is going to happen in December after upheavals and housing changes I THINK will take place in June. How crazy is that? All that has to happen right now is that I need to live my life in April, not in June, July, August, or December.
Basho is home again. His brow is still slightly furrowed, and he spent the first half-hour pacing around, whipping his tail a little faster than normal, checking to be sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. As usual, he stuck his head in Manko’s room, and as usual, she clapped her hands and yelled at him to get out–but she laughed with pleasure at the return of their ritual, and he turned and raised his tail at her, showing her his asshole and stalking into the living room as he always does. As soon as I got everything in from the car, I lay on the floor next to him and we gazed into each other’s eyes. I caressed his cheeks and he licked my fingers. Order is restored to the small universe of my home. As I wrote that, he came over to the computer table and hurled himself on my feet, belly-up. I think he has forgiven me, which is more than I deserve.
Tags: Manko, Texas
Kendall
Hooray – love is triumphant, once again! Welcome home Basho.
Welcome home Kendall.
Good old Kendall! Poor Basho’s banishment was a little premature, yes; he would have adjusted better than we do but you might as well have him, and he you, while you can
Aw, I think Basho belongs with you. ;^)
When I read an entry like this from the other side of the world, it sounds like you have found “it”. You have love in your life. You have the wildflowers. You have NOW. Your blog has made me think so much about the “search”. I love the searching and all that it teaches me about the world and my place in it. But more than that, I love the idea of “home”. Maybe that’s what we all are searching for anyway. Wow, I just love when you write about Bach, the sky, the movies (you should be a movie reviewer, even though I know you don’t like being a critic), the books you read….it sounds pretty damn good from this part of the world.It sounds like a home. But what is that saying about the grass is always greener…but you have wildflowers growing in your grass! Lucky!
Thanks to you all. This moment is perfection. Yes. Basho and I slept deeply next to each other last night, waking for the occasional nuzzle and to be sure the good fortune wasn’t a dream. I was reminded of the cliche, “You don’t know what you have till it’s gone.” This time, I was able to retrieve it. Lucky indeed; that so seldom happens. This fleeting “now” is all there ever is.
Kendall,
Your story brought tears to my eyes. We all deserve forgiveness when we are truly sorry. I love the blog, as always, and appreciate your honesty. Bless you.
Jessie