“The fog comes on little cat feet . . .”
One of my favorite lines by Carl Sandburg. Something about the cadence of the words, the visual they bring to mind, speaks to me.
Joy comes on little cat feet sometimes also.
I cannot say I was raised on speaking terms with Joy. In our house growing up, there were moments of humor, of happiness, of worry and consternation. Add in a heaping helping of Responsibility (that capital R, oh the weight of it), and you’ve got a recipe that tempts Joy to go find a better party.
I’ve been throwing just such a shindig, as it turns out.
Joy crept into my life over the past several years after a hiatus during which I let all sorts of things drag me down.
As I struggled financially after divorce, Joy tapped me on the shoulder late at night. Usually when I was sipping a nice sparkling rosé and thanking God one more time that I had enough. That I was enough.
As I watch my sons blossom, each with a wonderful but very different sense of humor, Joy whispers in my ear, “Hey, girl. You know where those genes come from. They have a belly laugh like yours. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Joy has recently come in the form of someone who has been very good to me. Full of happy surprises. And no, I don’t want to share any of it. It’s mine to know, for now. Maybe forever.
The Responsible part of me wants to dissect it all, like a friend who overanalyzes a great party.
Boo, hiss.
I will have none of that.
Joy means taking each day as it comes. Allowing yourself, the oh–so-Responsible one, some irresponsibility. Some moments just for you, away from prying eyes and dissectors.
Because, in case you did not know, here is how Sandburg’s poem ends:
“It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.”
Joy, like fog, is not a constant. You get moments. Some, if you’re very lucky, strung together.
Such a gift is meant to be enjoyed. Not questioned or analyzed. Not shared with the world at large.
Little cat feet tend to turn in other directions when watched too closely.
I close my eyes.
candidkay 
Glad you are feeling joy. I get the reference to it coming on cat’s feet. I hope it lasts for a long, long time. Wishing you an abundance of joy….,
Finding true joy has nothing to do with the material world, in my experience. But it gives the deepest satisfaction.
Learning to recognize joy is such a gift. I hope you get to enjoy it in spades.
You have enough…sparkling rose? That’s a spot-on piece of verse by Sandburg – one often doesn’t notice moods/feelings until they’ve fully arrived. And of course some secrets are best kept that way for fear they may pop.
I’m stocking up on the rose, Roy:).
There is something sacred in preserving a space of self in the modest privilege of privacy.
Yes! You get it, Marie. It’s underrated in our tell-all society.
Oh this is lovely. Present, basking in the now, beautiful. Enjoy your joy, Kay.
There’s something lovely in keeping joy to yourself. I get that.
I love that you do! So many people don’t.
Kay!
I’m so happy for you!
Thank you:). I’m happy for me too . . . Hope Joy heads your way also . . .
Beautiful, I love the cat feet and the recognition that everything is transient. I hope you’re revelling in your private joy 🙂
What a beautiful way to begin my day. So happy for you, my friend. xoxo
Beautifully expressed. Here’s to your happiness.
It’s a good feeling to allow joy in again. You deserve it Kay! ❤️
I asked Joy to move in Kay…oh, the wild thing…the things she now makes me get up to 😀
Smiling all the time, showing it at the slightest moment…and then laughing like I haven’t got a care in the world. I have tons of cares…I just lost them somewhere 🙂
Great post Kay, very glad that she visits you more often. A heart with less fear from learning to love within, is a clear pathway to your door 🙂
So that’s where the vixen goes when she leaves me, Mark:). I’m glad it’s to you.
😀
Oh do enjoy your Joy! Wonderful.
Thank you, Dale:). I am . . .