Cat’s-Eye

I oil the door's hinges at night because they've been squeaking all year, and when I open it in the morning, they're silent. The rest is identical. Nobody is awoken by me. I'm followed into the bathroom by my cat. He jumps upon my half-fleece, half-skin lap after I've sat down. Each paw lands at a slightly different time, as cold as a child's nose. He circles for a few beats before pressing his paws into the tops of my thighs, a motion that both awakens and relaxes me. His paws are toasty in seconds. They take me in quickly. We have a set schedule.

All relationships, according to my friend Jane, are transactional. I get the impression she doesn't agree with this viewpoint. She doesn't say anything about it until we're in the foyer, close to the stairs to my husband's room. We're saying our final goodbyes. I believe she would like me to disprove her notion with instances, to reassure her in some meaningful way that life is much more than that, but she must leave.

I can't help but wonder what the nature of our transaction is when I hug her. If she came to my house to meet a certain need, I hope I was able to fulfill it. I'll be thinking about Jane's notion on and off over the next few weeks. I, too, would want to believe that relationships are more than just transactional, but the evidence is mixed.

I used to have to write down my New Year's resolutions when I was a kid. Every year, I obsessively create pledges in my head, absolving myself of the responsibility of ever recording or maintaining them. Those that restrict or forbid activity, such as no Netflix for a year, irritate me the most. Alternatively, I'll never eat bacon again. I live in a world where limitations are already ingrained. Rather, I prefer to commit to doing more. I made a resolution last year to say "no" to my child more often.

This year, I've made a personal vow to have more sex. It's too early to say whether I'll be successful. More than one person, including my husband, has accused me of being an optimist. I admit I was one of the “Yes we can!” crowd long before it became a campaign slogan. ” individuals My spouse stated, with sadness and bitterness, when Obama was campaigning for president, "It'll never happen." “He can't win,” I insisted, “but it's possible!” He has a chance to win!! ” I felt both triumphant and guilty when he won.

We know a painter who was a romantic. He was our children's babysitter's grandfather. This babysitter had fascinated our children, and I had met the grandfather at an art event. We made the decision to invite them over for dinner. It was July at the time. We ate at a round glass table in the garden. They brought a strawberry rhubarb pie, and I laid out a red-and-white floral tablecloth. I've lost track of what I served. I recall the old man inquiring about our children's drawings.

For many years, he had been teaching art to children. She showed him an enigmatic, colorful drawing that I'd always admired and considered abstract. He recognized it right away as a large house with children's faces peering out the windows. When he stated that, our child's eyes lit up with recognition. He'd been correct. He provided us some marital advice at the conclusion of the meal without our asking. Increase the amount of time you spend doing what you enjoy. Do more of whatever it is that you and your partner like doing together. He died later that year while looking at a picture in a gallery.

When I open the door today, the silence reminds me that a new year has begun. In the silence, the cat purrs. Sitting for an extended period of time is bad for one's digestion. But he only purrs in the morning, and he shouldn't waste his purr. A little drop of blood forms on my thigh as he kneads me with such desire. With my middle finger, I dab it away. I took the blood-streaked fingertip and popped it into my mouth. I say, "Let's go." I rise from the toilet after sucking my finger clean. I bend down to pet him one more after washing my hands. I can't wait for tomorrow to come because he looks at me with his yellow eyes.