Another family reunion
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
The mother cat came walking up the steps of the front porch meowing to her offspring. This call of hers had a particularly urgent sound.
At the moment, her kittens were sprawled all over the porch sleeping in their respective corners. One was behind the fern on the table, one under the planter box that Tool Time Tim had crafted, another curled up on the rug at my feet and the last kitty-cat was inside a cardboard box. They were all shagged out and snoozing. That is, until mother called.
When she called, they came. And one by one, she acknowledged her litter of four with soothing meow sounds and face cleaning rituals. Then, even though these kitties can eat on their own, they all settled in to nurse. Her little cat clan attached once more.
My grandmother evidently used to make a similar call to her children every Sunday. When she called, they came — all seated at her table, each one acknowledged, loved, nurtured, through a familiar meal. It happened, too, at holidays. Ever after it's been a conundrum to me — all grown up with a family of my own — when I still felt that tug to go "home" for special occasions like Thanksgiving, when in fact home was no longer in the house with Mom and Dad. It was right where I was with my own children.
Still watching, I see the mother cat has up and left her children. She did her job — gathered and fed them — and she's on to other things. Together again, her clutch of little kittens snooze in a furry tangle of ears and paws.
Once my grandma was gone, her family kept up the ritual of gathering the kin — as so many folks do in the country. We still come together once a year for a little tender loving care (TLC). No kitty-licks or grooming, but a hug or two and a lot of laughter does nicely. It certainly does take some effort for everyone to come to Ramona from their own little corners of the world-porch, but the call is irresistible.
Family reunion time is just around the corner. We'd settled on a date months ago; but it seems the whole litter still need phone calls and letters to confirm that they've got it right. Wouldn't you know that my own daughter got it wrong?
"Mom," she said on the phone a week or so ago, "I just now discovered that the family reunion is the first week in July and not the second." There was a long silence as I held my breath. "I've got a fencing tournament on that weekend so we won't be able to come back to Ramona."
Like all good mothers I purred my most soothing sound and said, "Not to fret, Babe, there's always another year." However, she and I both knew that this was the SECOND year in a row, now, that she wouldn't be at the family table. "I'll see what I can do, Mom," she said. I didn't believe her.
"She won't be here," I said to my sister. "She's trying to let us down easy," my sister said to me. We grinned remembering the feeling. How many times had we attempted to do the same with our own parents through the years?
It's another day in the country and quite frankly, we underestimated the tug of coming back to Ramona. There's a message on the answering machine, "Mom," she said. "I'll be there."
