Category: Inner Life

A Cat Named November

In the daylight I felt my body quake
Warmth of the sun on my back
The sound of his breath in my ear
A cat meowing on the fire escape

I padded across to the kitchen
My studio apartment felt woken
As if my stretch and yawn caused a stir
The man however didn’t

Put on the coffee
Crack a few eggs
Scramble it with some whole milk
Talk to the cat

It had appeared one rainy fall
Cats normally choose you
He? She? It? November?
Came with the scent of burning wood and onset rain

Autumn was the greatest time of year
Sweater weather, Comfiness
The love and appreciation of what you have
November came with a loud meow

An orange tabby
With brown highlights
Begging for safety
They smelled the rain too
Ran inside as the window opened

A relationship
Not ownership
Comes and goes when sees fit
Has a bed, food, and water

Leaves presents on the fire escape
Only comes in when it rains and to eat
Says good morning and good night
Studies, cooks and sings with me

The man stirred and raised quickly
Nightmare? Slept so good was unaware?
Where he was, who he was with
His focus came slow just like his sly smile

November came in
Meowing as if asking who he was
“A friend who stayed over. Handsome, right?”
The man’s smile turned boyish

Hand stretched out to welcome this authority
November must have approved
Jumped in the man’s lap
Purring and kneading his bare skin

Brown boy
Orange cat
Moring glory
Let’s eat

November enjoyed a bowl of wet food Between I and him
Trusted, but know your place
November kept an eye on him









The Last Christmas

We come to a scene in Long Island, NY. A big red house on a small side road of the only highway in or out of the hamptons. A single mother and a teenager from a class you don’t hear much about in this area. The holidays are all about traditions, this small family was surely different. The daughter, Aminah, had no wants other than to live comfortably. Something she knew was overly ambitious. The mother, Denise, was a dreamer who brought her daughter into the world in hopes to change it. With their family of two the tradition of Christmas was simple. Start shopping two weeks before and buy the tree two days before. Nothing else would be done until the twenty-third, starting with finally putting the lights and bulbs on the tree. Then all day Christmas eve the two of them will work until two or three am wrapping all the presents, putting the finishing touches on the tree, and baking at least five dozen cookies for aunts and uncles.

That was their tradition for the past decade, a smooth dance the two of them completed each year. This one would be diffrent though, and the last one the two of them would spend together. Aminah knew this despite her mother trying her best to console her. The whole year Denise had been in and out of the hospital. This was the first month they had been in their own apartment, and together, since March. Aminah had heard whisperings of Denise denying a gift of a kidney from a classmates family memeber. It seemed each day her mother grew sicker, and her biggest fears were coming true. The clock struck ten, and Denise called Aminah into her room.

“I’ll get up in an hour and we can start setting everything up.” Aminah looked at her mother, pale, slightly out of breath because she had missed dialysis for a few days. “It’s fine, mom. I can do it. Just rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

She tested the different sets of lights, putting up her favorite bulbs and mixing them with the ones they had bought the other day. Tinsel all around the tree, while she chuckled thining about he cute elves from Santa Clause breaking everyone out with it. Lastly, she wrapped her mom’s presents, there would be no cookies this year. She finished everything around five in the morning, checked on her mom before finally going to bed.

Waking up four hours later, Aminah went to her mom’s room for them to open their presents. Denise began to cry as soon as she entered the living room. “You did such a great job, Aminah! The most beautiful tree we’ve had, for sure.” As always, to her surprise, there were about ten extra presents under the tree with her name on it. Aminah still doesn’t know how her mom was able to hide her presents; they would just appear under the tree. When did her mom do it? It had looked like she hadn’t moved since the morning. Most people then watch the parades or Christmas movies, but Aminah was never a fan of these things. So the two of them tuned into the radio and switched from the Oldies station, Delilah, and BLI. Music should never stay in one decade when being listened to.

Aminah started brunch, her signature dish, scrambled eggs with cheese and pancakes. The two sat singing songs, eating, and not talking about the elephant in the room. A beautiful memory, indeed.

The Silver Cylinder

This is my safe place. Since five years old, when I came to this Elementary school, I would take solace in this space. Before school, recess, after school; now a place in my mind I go to. It kept me safe from the wind and cold in winter. In summer, it burned my skin the way that I like, candle wax that I can feel on something other than my hand.

My thoughts race as I watch the kids play on the playground. I am other and feel I can never belong. Why do I want to belong? I think of my parents, aunts, uncles and their responsibilities. Til this day even when I have a lot of responsibility I feel no one thinks me worthy. I didn’t want what they had anyway. There is nothing I want to do other than live, experience all of the things possible to experience. As a child I can understand that money allows you to do that, that some have more than others. Why does that exist when we have all we need around us? What is value when we are only living?

These are questions I was too young to ask, and only asked myself. How does a five year old with no hope answer them? Throughout the rest of my life I go through the motions knowing that I am not meeting the milestones of the world. I just couldn’t understand the reason and felt I had already lost. I breathe in, the enclosed space of the cylinder allows me to feel comfort. Warmth, heat, fire, and safety; the only feelings I can put my finger on. Sadly, to this day I can put my finger on but still don’t understand.

It’s the end of the world. I have no job. I am not living in any place. My body is here, my soul is dead, and I wonder what freedom truly is. I start to scoot out of my cylinder, the sound of my chains echoing throughout. When I was five, I’m sure I pictured myself here, yet I never gave up, only talked about it. Is it time to throw it in?