Generations

I sometimes lie supine on my living room floor and allow my big cat to rest his head on the upturned and cupped palm of my hand.   With my eyes shut, his steady purring feels like entire generations of life caught in my palm and sifting right through my fingers: births, deaths, loves, play, cats stalking amid tall grass, and one dog trying to rush in—only to get stuck there with a large stick sideways in its mouth at a too small opening. 

--Mitchell Hegman