We take the tiny things - the ones that create such magic - for granted, and we rarely notice them until they're gone in some fashion.
They've been on my mind a great deal these past 2 weeks. It all began with our car and that evil dreaded "Check Engine" light. The light that makes dollar signs hastily exit your bank account, your gut clench, and your head spin. That light appeared for the first time about 2 weeks ago. We'd decided to go adventuring, got as far as the gas station about a mile up the road, and it made its entrance. I swear I could hear evil laughter.
So, back home we went, and then Phi dropped it off at our trusted mechanic. Approximately $900 later, we could claim uur car...except, well, when the mechanics put it all back together and made their final check, that damn light came on again.
Best part? They truly didn't know why. The wonderful little computer that supposedly tells you the problem, identified something that did not exist on our car.
Off and on went the computer, and each time, a new message appeared. Five messages in all, each and every one of them different.
I do believe the car thought of its stay at the garage like a retreat at an upscale spa. It loved it there. It didn't want to leave, and it managed to extend its vacation for 2 weeks.
I'll spare you all the details, but I'll tell you this. It all came down to a tiny thing, a small wire that over the years lost its insulation and became a bit corroded. Each time the engine started, this tiny tiny wire threw out some sparks and created utter havoc.
Fast forward, please, to the farmers' market, which I love to photograph.
As I wandered through the stands, happily capturing colors and textures, I nearly missed it....a tiny round wicker basked filled with cloves of garlic. Everything around it seemed to swallow it up, or at least hide it. Tiny plain white bulbs of garlic that pack a powerful punch. After all, they kill vampires, right? (Tongue planted firmly in cheek here.) Just one tiny clove adds so much to a meal. Yet, looking around, watching everyone shop, no one seemed to notice it; there was just too much else to see, visually strong things.
I'm kind of meandering, aren't I? But, now to the last of the tiny things, a list of tiny things, really.
Last night, we unexpectedly lost our Sheba.
She came to us less than a year ago, a beautiful striped gray tiger cat. A coworker of Phil's had found her cowering under a bush and pitifully thin. Eventually she made her way to us.
The vet pronounced her healthy, and she gained weight rapidly. She also made her way into our hearts quickly. We had been cat-less for a year or so. The last of our guys had died, living to a ripe old age of 17 and 22. So, you see, with Sheba being only about 3, we expected her to be a part of our family for many years.
I'm not sure what went wrong; she'd been about 24 hours, a bit off with some gastro issues. But this morning brought the realization we'd lost her.
And, it's the tiny things I'm missing, missing ever so dreadfully.
Her mouthy good mornings.
Her playing dodge the vacuum cleaner.
Her love of bacon, the only thing she'd take off your plate, brazenly and without shame.
Her getting between us and what ever we were reading, the book seeming to signal that a visit was in order.
I miss laughing as she scratched her chin along my Ipad, making it impossible to get a thing done.
I miss watching her trying to hug Phil with her paws.
I miss dodging her as she tried to get our toes, and oh, did she love her flip flops.
I miss her peering between the banister rails, watching the two twits playing and creating havoc. She absolutely did not want to be in the middle of it, but not being to see what was happening drove her nuts.
Yeah, it's the tiny things, the things that sometimes drove me completely and utterly nuts that I'm missing now as I type this.
I miss my little girl, her quirks, and her silliness.
Tiny things pack a hell of a punch.