Sounds of Raw Life

This morning I woke in the darkness. The sun rose and barely spread its light across my lawn. I sat and stared into the morning night and waited. In the distance a roar of thunder grumbled, angry that it didn’t get out the rain during sleep time. I waited to see if lightening would strike. Slowly, a tweet of sun broke only for a moment, and I noticed sitting on my window pane, high up in the corner of my high ceiling window, a mother and child raccoon. The baby turned and for a brief moment held my gaze with her piercing dark eyes that sucked me in like a black hole, her stare holding me to her 'Good morning, feed me, mama'. I see this mother and child come to my patio and pool every day. I think they believe it is their private country club. They scurry around, pick at the leaves, sit in the sun and splash their tiny feet into the pool, then run away into the forest that borders my property. Sometimes when it rains, the two hide underneath the over-hang and wait, cuddled together. At times when the winds blow with a soft whistling anger, I see their fear and confusion as the two hurry to find a deeper hole to hide, somewhere between the folding chairs and table. At times I see them gaze out, as if searching for the rest of their tribe, waiting….just waiting for the others to come and join them. I feel this small family of raccoons as my own ancestors. We aren’t the only creatures who wander the desert clinging to the unknown, clinging to a loved one, needing company along the way, eating a gourmet meal of leaves and grass like their last supper, taking a dip into the waters of life...nourishing their bellies and souls in the daily routine of living. I love mother and daughter raccoon…I love them…I feel a kinship to their journey of being raccoons. I empathize with the plight to be a creature of the universe living on this earth, looking for a home.