Mrrow.
My cat scratches at the door. She's jumped off my bed and has decided to exit my room. The door is shut, and she needs me to open it. But it's so early, and I'm so tired. I pull my covers higher, trying to ignore her.
Mrrrow?
I crack my eyes open and roll over to see my alarm clock's bright blue display. 5:36 AM. Ugh. And it's not even really light out.
My mom's words ring through my memory. "If you're going to take Socks for the night, you can't just dump her in the hallway in the morning."
Actually, I never "dumped" Socks. I just opened the door so that she could come and go as she pleased. But, my mom was right. Our acrobatic little cat has a habit of getting into forbidden, fragile places when unsupervised, and right now, I don't have enough hours of sleep to supervise anything.
Mrrow! Mrrow…
Socks is more insistent. I detect a pitiful undertone to her meow. I don't want her to be sad. What does she want? I sit up and stare at her, and she stares back with wide black eyes. Would it really be that bad if I let her out? All she usually does is sit by the big window at the end of the hallway.
Maybe I can recreate that for her in the safety of my own room. I get up, go to my bedroom window, and pull the metal cord. My window shades pivot open with a shhhkkk sound.
Through the shadows of the trees, I see a streak of orange across the sky. The lake is dark and calm. Everything is silent.
Wow.
I pull a stool up to the window. Socks immediately jumps onto it. She reaches up to touch the glass, her tiny pink nose pressing towards the sunrise. The window shades move around her to frame her small black and white body.
Over the next ten minutes, the streak dissipates, and the sky brightens into a gradient from yellow at the horizon to cool grey in the heavens. The reflection in the lake becomes clearer and clearer until all I can see behind the trees is endless sky.
No wonder Socks wanted to find a window.
It's moments like these that help me remember how lucky I am to exist, and how life on Earth is blessed with subtle beauties. When you pull up the covers and sink into the comfort of your bed, you miss out on little moments of peace like these. As I type this, I look over, and there she is, still sitting on that stool to my left, still entranced by the growing light. I pet her. She's so soft. She gives a short squeak, like a pigeon asking a question, and she reaches for the window again.
I close my laptop and watch the sunrise with my cat.
