Outside the kitchen window, I couldn’t stop staring. There was so much happening in the backyard. It was a world that I’d never really noticed, a place that I hadn’t been able to spend too much time in. I watched as the birds darted frantically from the tree branches to the damp grass, searching for long grass blades and twigs to build nests from, quickly, before the warm days of fall turned to a nasty winter of rain and the occasional freeze.
The backyard was teeming with life. Out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t take my eyes off of the neighbor’s tabby cat who crawled silently through the weeds, his eyes blacker than night, his tail twitching ever so slightly. He looked agitated, purposeful, and unconsciously, I reached up to the glass and tapped lightly with my fingers, then smacked the glass with my palm. I wanted to yell, “fly away birds… quickly before the cat gets you”, but I couldn’t. It felt like I was watching a movie. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the backyard.
I felt like crying. I felt so emotional.
Laughing, I turned away as the cat stopped to lick himself. I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of crying.