my father and the cats

"Let's go see if we can see any cats."

One of my earliest memories - perhaps because it was a recurring event: I am little, crying because of fever or ear infection. The darkness in the middle of the night, no lights on, the helplessness of pain when you are too little to understand it, the exhaustion. But also my long-suffering father's arms around me, carrying me around and around the house in the middle of the night, trying to lull me back to sleep. His soothing whisper in my ear as we approach the living room windows. I always stopped crying as we looked out into the dark garden. There could be a cat out there, stalking around. I loved cats.

Now, many years later, with my father at a difficult and heartbreaking mental distance, I suddenly remember this. And I start crying again.