catdad

he sticks his head through the railings, tail wiggling. he reminds me of those retired grandpas who finally have the time to enjoy life a little.

today i opened the door without checking. our eyes met. his went huge. no longer unbothered, i was his next kill. i mean, i ruined his little joyous moment, that i did.

i was the intruder. we held the moment like two people who had walked into the wrong meeting.

i closed the door slowly. don't mind me. you enjoy your view. i'm not even here.

then it was all chilli, no salt. added salt.

now it tastes terrible.

didn’t tell anyone. just wrote it down and started working on it.

some of my flaws aren't even flaws. i just couldn't see past them. i'm not the most forgiving person. i'll forgive you in a heartbeat. myself, not so much. nobody really teaches you that, do they?

so i started working on them. the flaws. all of them.

here's what i did. don't laugh.

i made a list.

it's long. longer than i wanted it to be. things i'm not proud of. things i wish i did better. things i wish i was naturally good at and never have been. things that were given to me by people who weren't careful with what they gave.

some of them, i can't fix. i'm learning to accept that. some of them, i can. i'm learning to accept that too. which is harder, somehow. accepting the thing you have to do something about is heavier than accepting the thing you can't.

yesterday i spent one minute. just one. fixing something on the list.

it felt good. genuinely. small, but good.