Serendipity and Me (9781101602805)
Page 11
near the crook of your dream
in the armchair of your tenderness
on the pillow of your heart. . . .
It’s maybe six months later. . . .
Dad hands me one of the tennis racquets
that live near the front door—
within easy reach for our game time.
We leave the lights on in the family room
to welcome us when we return
and wave at Mrs. Whittier
through her picture glass window.
We walk past Mom’s dorm
in the campus dark.
Dad’s carrying his racquet like a banjo
and the bright lights from the courts
make him look like a shiny country star.
He stops to see if Serendipity will pause.
She’s following us
slipping beneath the dew-moistened bushes
raising the smell of wet leaves and earth.
She thinks she’s invisible
he says, grinning.
But she’s not.
Her whiteness glows against the dark.
She’s a fluffy ghost
on a moonlit mission.
We begin to play
pretending we don’t see her.
Each twang on the racquet
makes her tail jump
as she crouches at the end of the net
waiting.
And then the ball falls into the net
and she races to it
jumps on it
throws it in the air
and flies for freedom to the other side.
We can’t help laughing
at our little kitty
Serendipity
like we do so often
these days.
Acknowledgments
Many, many thanks to the following people (and cats):
my kind and patient agent, Stephen Fraser, who loved this story when it was still a picture book and he was still an editor;
my wonderful cat-loving editor, Joy Peskin, who guided me to find the story beneath the story;
my other thoughtful editor, Catherine Frank, who helped me finish the process;
my critiquers and writing buddies, especially Janet Settimo, Peggy Reiff Miller, Mary Ann Moore, Doris Holik Kelly, Peggy Archer, Tracy Burchett, Diane Sutton, Erin Harden, Kathy Higgs-Coulthard, Kirsten Klassen, Carol Brodtrick, and George Ella Lyon;
my savior, who came to give us abundant life;
my parents, Sam and Barbara Marsh, who indulged the pet cravings of their daughters;
my husband, Marc, and my sons, Brendan and Corey, who are just as tickled by cat antics as I am;
my extended family, who have shared many a cat laugh with me, especially my sister-aunt, Kathy Hatchett-Toohey;
and finally, the cats I have lived with—Thomasina, my first cat; Stinky, the original dorm kitty; Jasmine, the fluffy white cat; Princess, the ever-reigning queen; Winnie, my first grandkitty; and Max and Murray, the cornfield boys.
I love you all.