The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 106
Sure, I still looked up each morning when I walked out into the backyard but it was more a “good luck wherever you are” wish than anything else.
Then Hank snapped me out of that mode, too, rattling the bamboo curtain, catching my attention as he galloped out of the studio and across the yard to greet me. Not an unusual thing, for him, but just before he got to the brick patio where I stood he leaped into the air, twisted sideways a little, tapped his front paws together Baryshnikov-style, then stuck the landing at my feet.
“Muir-al?” he said, looking up.
It was hilarious. I picked him up and stroked his handsome, 13 year old cat head, realizing quite perfectly—first time in a long time—that accompanying present moment awareness is the often uncontainable expression of joy.
From that point on each time I thought about Juliette, each time a memory rose up it transformed itself, organically and automatically, into a celebration. Because, after all, how was it even possible, after 20 years, that a long held regret could so suddenly, so dramatically reverse itself?
Oh, keeper of lightning and rain, fixer of broken circles…
Finally the world made sense.