i forget you—
the way you opened
your arms to me at the door
& the embrace following.
i was welcome, the same
as the gray cat at the entrance
of my father’s home—“you’re
here!”—her eyes wonder
while i sit at the table, waiting
the nuzzle i smile control into,
lost in love only knowing remember.
Author’s note: this cat, Juno, is my favorite. out of all the animals my dad has. No matter how many days I’m away from her, she runs to me, like. YOU’VE BEEN AWAY FOR YEARS! HELLO! I hung out with her from Friday until today, and even when i’d be doing something like reading, she’d interrupt: hi, so i’m just going to lay on your notebook while you’re writing, no big deal right? or when i’m laying on the couch: hey, so i’m going to lay on you, but actually hug you for at least an hour and purr real loud? and then make you laugh.
she kept coming to me over and over. like God constantly saying: hey, julia. i missed you so much! hug time!
i saw it with the rest of my family. but the way she came when they were engrossed in something else. or not expecting. like me.
It’s God running toward us with arms (or paws) open wide.
It makes me tear up.