I got to thinking about my last post. About how Mom’s hands petted my cats, and now they are even more precious to me because of that.
I’ve probably written that I still have a drink in the fridge that was Mom’s.
Just a bottle with a straw in it. And maybe she didn’t even touch it, as I was holding it for her to drink from. But it’s going to stay in this house as long as I do.
I picked up that bottle yesterday and I felt an absolute electric current of love wash over me.
She must know I still think of her energy being attached to that straw.
How funny — I have hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of possessions in this hovel. Yet somehow, that little bottle is the most precious among them.