Dear Penelope, Charlie, and Willow,

Watching you bat your little paws against the smeary glass at Petsmart and mew at my fingertips grazing the walls of your habitat, wishing I could hold you, yes, made me cry and wish I could take 3 kittens home for no reason, but you also brightened my day considerably.

You small animals are so incredibly therapeutic. All you need is to look at them. Sit on the dirty floor of Petsmart and let them melt you with their soul-penatrating gazes. Watch them chase each other's tails one minute and curl up in furry, sleeping bundles the next.

Suddenly you're sitting there squealing at the glass windows, making a fool of yourself, and you think, "Wait, didn't I have problems a minute ago? I can't fathom where they went."

And did you guys see the other girl? The one with the green and gray scarf, who was taking Snapchat videos of your antics. Keep an eye out if she comes back for you. Well, Willow at least. She's a good one, that chick. She'll take great care of you, and let you romp on her flowery bedspread and read you stories about Peter Pan and you'll have great fun chasing her scarves across the floor. And I'll come over and visit you, and we can all play together.

Sorry I had to leave, and know that it did in fact break my heart. But her and I were so full of peppermint mochas and happy energy that we couldn't stay forever.

I'll tell you guys a secret. That girl's my new favorite buddy. I could share steamy drinks and gleeful car rides with her any day, and I always come home with my heart fuller than it was that morning.
Kittens included or not.

So if she shows up again, feel lucky. Very lucky.

#MCM Forever



Not too many people know the real story behind the cat that rubs against their legs when they walk through my front door, or why the literal best part of my day is when I get to curl up on my bed with him.

Travel back with me, if you would. The year is 2003. Think what you were doing in March of that year. Probably in elementary school. I was around 6. I was doing my homework that night like a studious little child and my mother was taking out the trash. Outside there was a light drizzle. She was opening the back door, huge bags in tow, when I heard her yell with surprise. There was a black stray cat in our neighborhood, and it apparently had chosen our back stoop to spend the night. When my mom opened the door, she had leaped across her path and away into the night.

Turning her head to look at where the cat had jumped from, my mom gasped loudly. "Guys, there's kittens!"

In the damp leaves beside our back stoop, there were two brown and white kittens in the drizzle. We called our neighbors (who had some cat experience over), wrapped the kittens in blankets, and gave them some milk. I got to hold one. It fit perfectly in my tiny 6-year-old hands, mewing pitifully. We left them there, because our neighbors said the mother was probably moving the litter and it was best to let her come back for those two.

Morning came. One kitten was left. We built a little shelter for it and waited for the mother to come back. But a whole day and night passed. She never returned. We finally brought the kitten inside to care for it, where I dubbed him Peppermint, after a kitten in a storybook I had read. Weeks passed and my mom continued to wake up in the middle of the night to bottle-feed the 3-week old kitten, all the while emailing my dad while he was in Iraq to report on our new guest. After a month or two, my little brother and I dared to ask if we would get to keep him. After a small pause, my mom smiled. She thought we could.

And so through every move, to relatives' houses, overseas and back, vacations, Pepper (as his name was shortened to become) has been the original 5th Erdelatz. He has the strongest personality of any animal I've ever met and has put up with me and my brother shoving him onto beds, tossing him outside when it snows, crushing him under the weight of our hugs, and so much more.

A few weeks after we moved to Stafford (a little over a year ago), Pepper went outside one Saturday afternoon and didn't come back. My mom told me on Monday that she hadn't seen him for two days and I immediately started pacing the neighborhood calling his name. I cried every day he didn't come back until Thursday at 6:15 am, he appeared at the front door and walked right back in.

Ever since then, I've been terrified of losing him. I wish I could take him to college with me. But I'm so scared I'm going to come home one weekend and...he'll just not be there. He's over 10 years old. How much longer is he going to live? He's gotten lost. He's gotten in fights. He still gets himself into trouble all the time.

He's the best part of my day. When I collapse on my bed after a hard day, he always jumps up, crawls onto my stomach and just curls up into a warm, purring ball. There is nothing more soothing than a purring cat next to you. Nothing.



People I Miss

Bailey Lisk- I keep wanting to Skype you, and I keep being busy, and I feel awful because I don't deserve such a wonderful friend as you.

Coree Stuart- I missed Skyping Tuesday today, didn't I? I can't stand myself sometimes.

Rebecca and Josh Cooper- Is it a little pathetic that you guys are 40% of the reason that I'm applying to the University of Chicago? I really want to see you again.

Dave- You're still one of the only people in this entire world that can get me to say exactly what's really going on with me, talk me through it, and then pray over me so well that I start crying without knowing why. You are my biggest spiritual mentor. Ever.

Olivia Parvin- Your birthday is tomorrow, and I AM going to send you a good present this year, because every year you send the best presents imaginable and I feel like a terrible person because I don't deserve you or your awesome presents.

Madi- I need you to come over and sit on my bed with me so I can vent and then we can put on footie pajamas and scamper down to the basement and dance wildly. That's what I need right now.

Zach Tillapaugh- I keep remembering that taxi ride in Bangkok, where you suddenly stopped laughing and said this might be the last time the three of us saw each other. And you were right. I hope we can go next summer. Like, more than anything.

Bethany West- I am going to respond to your letter. I promise. I've already responded, actually. I just haven't sent it. You are one of the best people I've ever known. You deserve a good letter.

Ms. Deakins- There will never, ever, be another drama mother. You were it.

Mr. Coia- I still daydream during Creative Writing that you're going to walk in and find me, and read my writing and do your funny hand gestures and remind me why I wanted to major in English again.

Aaron, Alex, Tristan, and Mikey- You guys probably don't even remember me. But I remember you too well. You're all so impressive. So funny. So witty. I will probably always be attracted to Alex's written eloquence. I need great kids like you in my senior class. Seriously.


All my best friends. All my future bridesmaids. All the people I met and immediately realized I could hang out with for the rest of my life. The ones whose smiles, laughes, eye colors, and mannerisms I remember by heart.

I miss you.

Can I go back now?

Helpless

I was watching three of my friends frantically study for their AP Chem whatever-it-was at lunch yesterday, and I turned to someone and said, "I'm watching this with the same feeling I get when I see those sappy ASPCA commercials. I feel so sad for the helpless little kittens and puppies and I just want to save them all, but I can't."

Those poor little kittens needed someone to help them, but I just couldn't do it. (i.e. I hadn't taken chem since sophomore year)

As humorous as that situation was, I realized how true it was about myself as I shivered under my covers at 10:30 pm (yeah, yeah) last night and realized that there are some people I can't save.

And it's heartbreaking. It's almost like I'm hurting worse than they are. But goosebumps wrap around my sides and race down my legs and this knot tightens in my throat and my eyes sting as I realize that there's no way I know what it's like to hurt that bad. Me, in my privileged middle-class white girl life.

That makes it worse.

So as I shivered under a comforter and another fleece blanket, scared to death that I might not be enough,

I came to the heartbreaking conclusion that while I'm certainly not doing all I can, at the end of the day there will only be so much.