Most Likely to Prepare for Takeoff
"Conjure up the courage to make real what I have imagined." - Glennon Doyle
I glanced out the window and noticed a strange cat on the roof of the neighbor's house. A tabby with an intentional gaze. She looked content as she sat perched near the gutters. I've never seen a feline like this before; did she belong there? Stray cats have the tendency to strut past here all the time, but this one is different and sitting stationary, seemingly waiting for something or perhaps someone. If that's the case, maybe she is more wise than I'd think to give her credit for. Maybe she isn't going to just sit around and wait for the election results to come through or for the pandemic to pass. I read the other day that "Mitch Mc. Connell and Co. haven't quite gone full death cult on us" yet but if the tides turn, isn't that the inevitable? If in fact, we are really a year away from losing someone we love to the impending civil war, shouldn't we plan our escape now? It's funny how much your fears can play a game of cat and mouse with you when you're wrapped up in them, but maybe they have the right idea. It's possible this cat is just confused, but it's equally possible that it could be an alien. I'm just washing dishes, a task I've done a thousand times before today, but I haven't looked down at a single glass. I'm using muscle memory to get them clean. My eyes are steady glued across the alleyway because I'm telling you, something is up with this cat. The wind is picking up now and it dawns on me that I haven't seen the woman that resides there in well over a week. I've lived beside her for years and I never did manage to catch her name, at least I can't seem to recollect it right now. I watch above as something small and orange starts to drop into my view. At first, it appears to be a balloon dropping in from the clouds, slowly deflating in helium and conflating my view. At second glance, I confirm that it is indeed a balloon, but it's not the kind I first considered. It's growing bigger by the minute, like the bewitched peach James tried like hell to hide from Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker, only this peach isn't a peach at all. It's actually a hot air balloon, and if I had to guess, I'd say it's heading straight for that roof. I knew there was something up with that cat. My jaw drops and so does the sudsed-up coffee mug in my hands. It shatters into the sink but that sound is muffled by the roar of the burners levitating this bizarre ship right at me, altering my worldview. I can't see anything in its basket and the balloon never quite lands. It just gets close enough for the cat to leap into it like clockwork. As fast as it comes in, it's gone. Up, up and away. On a permanent ride to hide. Right on schedule, I imagine. Lucky cat.