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ROLLING WITH JAMES JOYCE ON AN IRISH HILL

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ODE TO THE BOOKISH GIRLS

The story of the Cat Lady

 

 story cat lady

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“Let’s sit here and wait for the cat lady…”

We would sit on the same bench at a time when the sun is keeping it warm, recounting the story of our day so far while waiting for the cat lady to bring us food and a bit of love. It was an easy relationship, built on mutual independence and yet, we had become accustomed to each others’ presence.

She would cross the street to come to us, with wisps of her hair entangled in her floral headband; donning a skirt that begged us to knead into. She would find us rocking slightly in our seats — I would be donning my cat ears headband, and the rest in their furs with flees, talking meows and the rain. We talked a lot about the rain.

 Cat lady

The cat lady knew that we would always subsist in our loneliness

We would all speak at once the minute she’s with us, relishing the conversation but never expecting consolation or understanding — all of us, including the cat lady, knew that we would always subsist in our loneliness. She would stay for a while after giving us food, sitting on the same bench, looking at the villagers pass by with an inherent urgency while our time stood still.

We were strays, or so the villagers thought when they passed us by, but we glided in and out of people’s lives, present only when we deemed it necessary.

Story credits: Marie Claire China; The Beauty Model Tumblr.

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