To live Again

Our meeting was fleeting. I knew him naught for more than a few minutes. Yet somehow he had impacted my life with all the likeness of a tsunami crashing upon the land. Ever since the accident that stole from me my leg and most of my hearing, I felt as if I was drowning in a bottomless void of misery. No longer could I walk or run or stand. I couldn’t hear most of what people said without them speaking loudly and looking at me as they spoke.

          I felt broken and lost. What was I supposed to do now? I was treated like a delicate porcelain doll, like I would shatter with the slightest touch. I hated it. I wished people would stop treating me like an invalid, like I had lost more than I had. I tried to pretend that everything was fine but it wasn’t. I struggled healing, my wounds kept getting infections no matter what I did, people would forget that I couldn’t hear well anymore and speak too quietly for me to hear, and the looks. Oh how I hated the looks the most. The pity stares and judgmental glances.

          I was full of scars from the accident. They ran from my face to my legs and my arms. I hated them with a burning passion. They were the sign that something terrible had happened, a warning to people that I was damaged. My family tiptoed around me constantly, afraid of reminding me of what happened. As if the loss of a leg and most my hearing wasn’t enough of a reminder for me. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t. I could only smile and nod, reassuring everyone that I was fine. I was not fine.

          It was the middle of summer, an extraordinarily hot day too, when I met him. I was sitting in my wheelchair alone; my family went to go get ice cream from the nearby truck and had asked me to wait where I was. Where else was I supposed to go? My arm had been severely broken in the accident; I couldn’t wheel the chair by myself. No one was around at the time. I remember dropping the façade as soon as they left, a sudden intense feeling of exhaustion washing over me.

          I was tired. I wanted nothing more than to stand and run through the fields in the sun like I once did. Tears pooled in my eyes and ran down my face. I felt alone, like there was no one in the universe but me. Then I heard something, surprisingly enough. Looking up past my lashes I noticed a rather small cat.

          His ear was mangled beyond repair, his left eye was damaged and cloudy, and he was missing a hind leg. He didn’t seem miserable. He was howling at the top of his lungs and leaping about after a butterfly. He fell often, not able to stick his landings too well but he got up and kept chasing the pretty yellow butterfly. He had terrible balance and would often misjudge where the butterfly was, missing it by epic proportions.

          For some reason the sight brought a timid smile to my face. That cat was small and disfigured but he kept going. He was clearly a stray, his dark fur was dirty and you could see mats here and there. I felt, for the first time since the accident happened, like I wasn’t alone in the universe. After a while the cat sat down tiredly from his chase. He flopped down and rolled around in the grass for a bit, tail flicking back and forth.

          Then he noticed me. His one eye looked at me with a beautiful grey-blue iris as I held out a trembling hand to see if he would come over. He did. He bounded over to me and jumped into my lap, surprising me completely. He was an extraordinarily friendly little fellow. Gently I ran my hand through his coarse and dirty fur, not caring if he got me all dirty.

          For a moment it was just me and that cat, together in the sun. It was like a bubble of peace had surrounded up. I pulled the violet ribbon my sister had tied around my air and dangled it for the cat to play with. He swiped at it and rolled about on my lap, trying to catch the ribbon. I remember letting out a laugh at his antics. It was the first time in months that I had truly laughed. A warm feeling spread in my chest and settled there.

          Our little bubble soon burst. My family had come back from the truck with ice cream in their hands. The cat jumped out of my lap and ran off into the park. I was sad to see him go but felt happier than I had for what had felt like years. After that day, those few minutes, I was happier. The void of misery I had been sinking in wasn’t a void anymore. I felt like I could get out of it. I did. After talking, truthfully, to a therapist I finally started to feel like I wasn’t sinking anymore.

          I learned to read lips and sign language to help make things easier for myself and others. Once my wounds healed I went through physical therapy and got a prosthetic leg to replace the one I had lost. The process wasn’t easy. Many times I remember feeling like it was pointless, like I wanted to give up. Surprisingly enough, every time I was about to give up, that moment in the park with that disfigured cat came to mind.

          He was so happy and friendly despite what he was missing. He kept going, leaping upwards. If that cat could find a way to live so joyously in that moment then who was to say I couldn’t? I got stronger, tried harder, and studied more. Soon enough I could walk and run like I used to and people stopped just staring at my scars. I could smile and talk to people without having to ask them to speak louder or accidentally shout at them. No longer did I live in the moment of the accident, I was free. I could live again.

          I never saw that cat again but I don’t think I could ever forget him. It’s funny how some of the smallest things could be what we need to pull ourselves to our feet. I finished high school, went to college, got a job, got married, and had kids and eventually grandkids. I lived a full life and not once did I let what happened to me drag me down. Yes there were days when I struggled a little more but I never gave up. And as strange as it may sound, I believe that cat is the reason.

          He was the tsunami that I needed to get me out of my misery and throw my head back into the life I had. He was the reminder that I had not lost everything, that I could still live. I owe that cat my life and there isn’t a person alive who could convince me otherwise.