Ravin's Ramblings

All is quiet in the house. The neighborhood is sound asleep. I stand on my front steps, holding the door open and looking at masterpieces. Mandalas in their own right, crafted by ten tiny hands in a tiny team effort. Flowers and frogs, and fish, and waves, and lightning, and barns, and clouds, and long red planets, and stars, and french fries all wrap me in color. The cat pads across the yard, through the flower garden, up the steps, and tramples over the drawings leaving little colored tracks on the untouched portions. I look again and think the only thing missing is an arm draped over my shoulder and a chest to lean against. With an intense feeling of connectedness, of tiny little love tendrils ensconcing me, and knowing completely that all is right and well in my small corner of the world, I close and lock the door, flip the yard light, and follow the meows to the kitchen.