Sometimes I sense that to put real confidence in my memory I have to get to the end of all rememberings. That seems to say that I forego remembering. And now that strikes me as an accurate description of what it is to have confidence in one's memory.
          --Stanley Cavell, The Claim of Reason

I remember that after the puppies were all given away or sold, I didn't know what to do with myself after school. Like Jonah with his gourd, I couldn't remember what had been fun before those puppies. And then my brother found the dirty young particolor cat with the scratch down his nose in the sandpit park with the seesaw, a few turnings away. He was not like the feral cats that are everywhere in Jerusalem. Gentle and friendly, he would rub himself against our legs, call to us, and sit in my lap. I called him Pooh. Once we were friends, he followed me around, but my mother did not allow him into our apartment. After that, I remember my confidence that something worth loving would always appear.

posted by Rosasharn 6:38 PM
. . . 0 comments

Comments:

Post a Comment