Mother

I was up at around four in the morning for a bathroom run, and checking the cats, I see they are both there on the patio, doubtlessly hungry. I opened the door for them to come inside and get a bite to eat, but they declined. Presumably, they wanted me to bring the plate outside. A mood stole over me, and I made the power-play: if you don't come in, you don't eat. After going to the bathroom and getting a drink, I gave the cats another chance to come inside, which they still refused. Fine!

When I wake up in the morning, I feel my guilt. How could I do that to my loves? Big insight: that was the spirit of my mother in me. Why couldn't that die with her? A rhetorical question. I actually saw myself as mother from the cats' perspective. The younger, thinner version. So haughty. Like she's beautiful. Like royalty. Hurting the ones you love, or ought to love.