L J Purves
Artistic spirit who teaches piano, composes and enjoys writing.
Cat in the Wall
Dacious. Beau Dacious. Covert ninja. I operate strictly internally at M15, Domestic Intelligence on Kirkwood Avenue now. My free-spirited missions have been curtailed and my Agent Number was changed from 009 to 008 when I used up one of my lives in a harrowing mission we call “Cat in the Wall”. This occurred in March of 2020.
Jayda was born at our local Humane Society in January 1998. Her mom, a purebred Chow Chow, was chained to a pole outside of the facility on Boxing Day a few weeks earlier. Jayda and her five siblings were all adopted the very weekend they were able to leave the shelter. Jayda was the only pup who didn’t look like her mom; she was the tell that her pureblood mom had a secret rendezvous, likely with a shepherd cross.
A Child's Gift
“Is she holding the plastic cow again?” “Looks like it.” “I guess we’ll just leave her be.” It’s not a cow. It’s a bull. Jeffrey gave it to me when he was three, fifty-eight years ago. If I hold onto it and keep my eyes closed, the nurses leave me alone. I like to be left alone with my thoughts, or alone to not think at all. Meditation is a blissful way to pass time.
Fun Flower Facts
“I think it’s best if I take you, Sam.” His mother’s tone suggests he doesn’t have a choice in the matter, but Sam persists. “The invitation is addressed to me, Mom. I can get to Forest Heights by bus and then it’s just a ten-minute walk to his house. I’ve already looked into it.”
She’s late. And out of breath. She’s taken the stairs up to her fourth-floor office to make it seem as though she stopped in at accounting on the floor below - multitasking. Ms. Tanner, the office manager, hates it when anyone is late, especially her, Ms. Tanner’s assistant.
“Arrgh! No signal!” The storm in her mind is more severe than the rain pummeling my rooftop. I’ve endured many storms over the century. Up until twenty years ago the Coles took care of any damage Mother Nature inflicted upon me. Now I stand alone, weathered by time but still able to shelter any life that ventures within, as is my purpose.
Purpose Is My Passion
This week marks the end of my twenty sixth season teaching piano in the community I call home. Children of the children I once taught come to the studio for lessons now. I love each child who sits on the piano bench as though they are members of my family. I suppose this means that my role in many student’s lives over the years has been a natural, albeit pseudo, progression from older sister, to mother, to grandmother.