Monday, November 25, 2013

Trustworthy Nonnie

Mountain of Backyard Cats

I have a secret that I have to keep until December 16th. Difficult as this is, I will do it. Oh, I have told a few people known for their discretion or at least they are not known for being blabbermouths. I’m sure of that... Anyway, it’s not really about them, it’s about me and it will be easier for my confidantes to keep a secret about about me and not them. So, we’re good, right?

I can say these things:

I am not getting married or flying to Paris or a taking off for a hot weekend at some enchanted destination destined to fulfill my every dream, invigorate, inspire, and pamper me as I sip ambrosia with the reincarnation of William Powell.

I did not win 47 million dollars, or any sum whatsobloodyever in the Lottery.

I did not finish a new book. I can say, however, that I am five poems into a new book. This may not sound like much, but the five, no, let’s say six, poems I have written came together after extensive research, meanderings on the Internet, heart-rending plunges into the depths of my very soul, and filling up with literature by authors having (or having had) fine sensibilities. I’m currently reading William Faulkner who may or may not help me write another poem for this new book that I am definitely going to finish because I am a committed, serious, strenuous writer...brutal, even. I am amazed that I had to get this old to appreciate Faulkner. I do, now, though. It’s possible all I needed was more time.

It isn’t a bad thing like another open-heart surgery or a colonoscopy or a prison sentence for God knows what crime I may have been falsely accused of. That wouldn’t be a secret in the town I live in now, anyway. If you’ll notice, I don’t call it “my” town. It’s not mine; it’s theirs.

My brother and I are not getting another pet on December 16th. That would be extravagant. We have three excellent cats and a tender dog who live in the house with us and six more cats who have come to us and live in the backyard. We feed the backyard cats and they have my brother’s outside shower stall, which he misses, but there you go, to pile up in and get out of the wind and rain. We’re in Florida, so winter isn’t much of an issue. Although I should rub a rabbit’s foot or something because with the weather getting weirder every year, who knows?  They are all remarkable, people-cuddling, funny cats but they have to live outside. That’s all there is to it. I’ve taken two for their operations and rabies shots and the others are all scheduled to go next month. Responsibility almost rules me.

This secret is good news. That’s why it’s driving me crazy. Who doesn’t like to shout good news? No one. Some people seem to get a kick out of sharing bad news, though. I’ve known and even loved people who slam bad news in your face like slapstick comedians with coconut cream pies. That’s not my particular thrill. But, when I know something lovely, and you don’t, it’s hard for me not to give it up. Good secrets itch and tickle, and sometimes feel like happy burps bubbling up. But, I promised and I am a brutal promise-keeper. Sorry. You’ll have to wait.