The Strength of Love
How two almost grown kittens can scrunch themselves into the tiny cat bed by my computer is a mystery. But today Robert and his big bushy tail were curled into all the space, soundly asleep. Emma jumped up and hesitated. She seemed to recognize that Robert was asleep, so she nosed him hello and lay down on the cool granite, her head on the curve of the bed. Robert roused enough to pull her head down with his paw, gave her a few licks and fell back into his dreams. No complaints, no squabbling. I watched in fascination, thinking that this was the strength of love, of their brother/sister bond, of everything that is beautiful.
I thought about the painting on my easel, how even through many changes, I willingly returned to it time and again. Until my vision fit within its rectangle just as Robert and Emma fit within that tiny bed. Is that my version of the strength of love, the love of being an artist?
Art and life have their correlations, don't they?
