Key

       I woke up with a song Kate S used to sing in my head.  I was humming it when I went in to feed Gretchen, the new cat who is still acclimating in her own room.  We don’t know how long she was alone after her owner died, but by the time the super found her she was noticeably underweight. She is understandably food  obsessed and normally goes straight to her bowl and then comes to be patted. 

         When she heard me humming though, she veered away from her bowl and came right to me, purring. Some cats are drawn to music – several used to come sit on the piano when my mother played.  I can’t tell if she thinks my humming is purring or if she likes the song, so I sing it to her - “How can anyone ever tell you that you’re anything less than beautiful, how can anyone ever tell you that you’re less than whole? How can anyone fail to notice that your loving is a miracle? How deeply you’re connected to my soul.”

       Taking in a new cat is like starting any other kind of relationship- you keep finding out new things. I discovered the other day that if you kiss Gretchen on the head once, she will reach out her long white arm towards you, like she is saying, “more, please.”

       Today I had to face the grief I have been dodging since 2012 and go to Dad’s building to ask for a front door key so I can start the process of packing up his apartment.  I had one but I have no idea where it is after all these years. Even the thought of approaching this apartment is so painful that on my way into Manhattan, the image of the key, sharp as a sword, slicing through my flesh, tearing the grief wide open was vivid in my mind.

    I got to the familiar corner, now a martial arts place instead of the deli that Dad’s caregivers used to order from, and made my way down the row of five matching brick tenements to the last one, 504.  The five buildings are all part of one co-op, but I can’t remember where the co-op office is – I probably never needed to know.  I looked at the doorbells on 504, as though there would be some kind of clue there and was startled to see Dad’s name still there, along with his friend Mia from upstairs, who is not around any more either.

         It occurred to me to check the other buildings, and at 500 I found the bell for the office, but nobody answered at 10:30am on a Wednesday.  I couldn’t wait around to see if anybody showed up because today was my IVIG infusion so I walked the four uphill blocks to Mt Sinai West and settled in for a long afternoon of trying not to move my arm much.