Severe Need.

On the mornings of the days when I have to work, I am in severe need of sensitivity.

Severe. I need to feel something, something real, something in my heart. Because when I go to work I will be eviscerated; my belly will be sliced open, my guts falling to the floor, people walking by stepping on my guts and not apologizing.

Our cats have this thing that they do. They spend 98% of their time on the screened-in porch all summer. But they check in on us. They stroll into the house, walk across our laps, look us in the eye and walk on through. This happens multiple times during the day and the night.

On those mornings as I sit vulnerable in the recliner aching to be human, one of them - Emmy Lou or Patsy - and sometimes both of them at different moments - climb into my lap. Spend a few moments. Look me in the eye.

In those moments my heart leaves my body; it floats through my chest and hovers within striking distance of Emmy Lou or Patsy.

They sniff it, as cats do - lick it a little bit, nuzzle up against it (my favorite move).

And I am so full of love and so grateful and so tenderly content - tears in my eyes - that I remember that I am a human being.

Not a chump.

Emmy Lou and Patsy are precious beyond description to me and Carol.