My Day

Morning Sounds
Outside the bedroom: soft footsteps, a trickle of water, a quick “Ding…”—
that’s the microwave making breakfast.
I stay curled up in bed. Spring is made for sleeping. Pale beige sunlight slants through the
crack in the curtains.

The Quiet Hour
The sounds outside fade.
They’ve all gone off to work or school.
The house falls quiet.
Now is my time.
Breakfast is ready—the same day of every 365 days. A little boring, but I’m used to it.

The Window View
After washing up, I stand by the window, looking out at the garden, sparkling in the sun.
I don’t like books. I don’t care for social media. I’m not into music.
The best sound in the world must be birdsong.
Sun on my face—in that moment, the whole world feels like mine.

The Garden Path
The new door to the garden is made of frosted acrylic glass, and I come and go freely.
The garden is full of lavender.
I breathe in deeply—that’s what spring tastes like.
The breeze touches my cheek. Gentle. Cool.
Suddenly, a rustle.
A small gecko darts from the corner.
I nudge it lightly—just enough to startle it.
I continue walking. At the fence, I stop and peek through a gap into the neighbour’s garden.
There’s a shadow I know well—the cow cat.
I hiss—soft, short—a warning, not a threat.
He runs off.

The Midday Nap
Time for lunch—the rest of my morning meal.
After eating, I groom my furry pyjama, tiger-striped with a long tail.
I bought it five years ago; it hasn’t been washed in months.
It smells like me, of course, but also a bit like dirt, dust, and food.
Everything feels in place; it’s time for a nap.

Her Return
I hear a car pulling into the garage.
She’s back.
I stand on the garden path to wait for her.
She scoops me up in her arms, buries her face in my belly, rubbing back and forth. It tickles.
I squirm and laugh.
She kisses my cheek and says with a laugh,
“You smell like lavender. Did you fight with the cow cat?”
I think—she knows even when I say nothing.
I can’t tell her what she means to me, so I just lift my head and nuzzle under her chin.

Nightfall
I lead her to the flowerbed.
She looks down: “You scared the gecko’s tail right off again!”
I pretend I didn’t hear her.
We walk back inside, one behind the other.
The sky darkens. The world grows still.
My day slips quietly away.

2025.08.08