As I read Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, I remember just how much I miss Virginia.
|I walked to this dock every day. It was not my dock, but I liked to pretend it was.|
I am not a true Virginian since I was not born in Virginia.
My neighbor Cornelia always reminded us non-Virginians of this fact.
She is a true Virginian, but her husband is not.
He's from Mississippi, I think,
except he calls it "Missuhs-sippeh".
(Or was it Louisiana?)
"But no hard feelings, honey."
That's what Cornelia would always say,
in addition to other not so repeatable phrases.
I love that lady.
She'll tell you whether or not your Whiskey Cream has enough whiskey in it.
(It usually won't have enough.)
I am glad Annie Dillard always had a cat no matter where she lived,
whether in Puget Sound or Virginia...
When Hannabee and I lived in Virginia, we asked God to send us a cat.
And He did.
|Courtesy of A.O.|
He was a very handsome cat.
I am sure he did the things any other cat might do,
like kill birds or eat bugs,
or pretend you don't exist until you feed him.
Maybe he was a mercenary cat,
or maybe he was just hungry.
Either way, he was another living creature who could soothe our lonely hearts in a way that trees and bodies of water could not.
I still miss Virginia,
and I miss the rivers and trees,
and especially the Cat.
But I am glad to live near friends and family again,
even if there are no rivers,
or quite as many trees in Southern California.
My family is here,
and my cats are here.
Someday I will learn to call this city my home.