There is water on my kitchen floor this morning.
My house is odd — tall, with very poor drainage. Mini floods happen. Weird corners of my kitchen turn into watery caves that will not leave.
I stood and asked myself, "But where does this water come from?"
It's like my kitten, always waiting at my door.
There is always a small drainage issue making footprints unavoidable. There is also a meowing creature that demands my attention at four a.m.
Why? Because she wants to play.
There is a permanency to the chaos and affection of life itself.
On its smallest scale, perhaps, it's the most visible to me.