Symmetry

Leon, my fellow adoptee and soul mate.

Aleck was my first love. He was a yellow-eyed white cat who came into my life when I was around nine years old. Ignored by his previous owners Aleck came to live with us when the Blanches moved to California. He was a talker. He followed me around like a dog and liked to sleep on my chest. I was deeply smitten as I am now with Leon.

During much of my home life I was banished to my room. I often looked out my window to see Aleck sitting on the windowsill of the Blanche’s kitchen begging to be let inside. He too, was constantly banished, living his life separate from his family. I identified with him.

When he came to live with us we were always together when I was at home. At nights he would sleep with me. Leon is the same. He is always at my side, on my lap. Last night I went to bed at 8:30! I was pooped. And through most of the night, he was curled up against me.

Leon is an orange Burmese. He left his previous relationship (a man who constantly strayed) the moment he met me. He arrived one day a stranger and it was love at fist sight on both sides but our union was his decision. He kept coming back inside every time I put him out. I was exactly what he wanted—someone who was always home. 

You could call the solitary life my destiny. My sense of separateness from life is my mother's legacy. I have lived my whole life feeling betrayed by people—by her, the church with whom she left me and the well-intentioned disasters who adopted me. All my sense of love and trust and commitment came from animals, particularly Aleck. He was my first.

And now, Leon. Regardless of my destiny, I have had love in my life. For one brief wonderful "moment," I had Steve and our dogs but when I have been alone, I have had my devoted friends Aleck and Leon.

Symmetry.