Yes, so it is nearing mid-July and I have not done much with my summer beyond log a lot of miles on the bike. People keep asking me if I have any vacation plans. Believe me, I wish I did. I desperately need to lie on a deserted beach for about two weeks. But the chances of that happening are slim in these uncertain times.

My dead cat keeps visiting me in my dreams. They are not bad dreams. I wake up feeling like I was with him. In the dreams, I stroke his soft fur and he responds to my touch, curling his paws around my arm the way he always used to do. I feel like he is trying to tell me that he is still around and that he is happy. I miss him so much. Sometimes when I come home I just want him to be there, yearning to be held. I love his sister, and I am grateful that she is still with me. But they were always like night and day. And she is not meant to be a substitute for him.

Out there is not the answer. It’s in here and we’re breathing it, we’re speaking it, in short quiet moments of insignificance. Always when least expected, and often when most needed.