Part Four Peninsula By Leigh Novak
There is one final follow-up to my singing the blues last week. One more chance to rub your thumb and index finger together and play the world’s smallest violin for me before I get going on a bit of Washington State optimism.
Remember how I had the good company of my two cats traveling across the country and softening my loneliness to a degree? Well one of those felines – the one I had since I was 10-years-old – died one month after I arrived in Washington. Now understand, this was my first pet. I had this little critter from pre-pubescence, through the pit of hell that was high school, all the way through a year past college graduation. Thirteen years of life, he lied by my side, loyal and regal as a cat can be.
In a story by David Sedaris, he makes a comment that rang quite true for me upon the death of my first pet. He says when cats die, their owners tend to veil an entire period of life – the cat’s death is emblematic of their own chapter coming to a close. One of the main thoughts that crossed my mind as I sat awake with my old friend, certain that this night would be his last, was how symbolic it was that this cat of mine who saw me through my whole life in Chicago, this symbol of my life there, was leaving me. I actually envisioned a chapter titled “Chicago” and saw the pages closing.
So now that that’s out of the way, there are a couple of neat things about life out here. My personal favorite is the landscape. Being relatively land-locked my whole life and desiring some coastal inspiration, the Pacific Ocean is the main reason I moved here. The sound and smell of an ocean can soothe the soul; and there is nothing comparable to its healing power. Nothing at least, that can be found in a loud city.
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Posted on April 7, 2008
