By Beth Moulton
My cat Lucy sleeps on my chest in the night. Sometimes I startle awake from the weight of him, afraid my heart is squeezing shut, but no. It’s just Lucy. He lays purring between my breasts, his heart to my heart.
When Lucy was a kitten, the vet told me he had a heart murmur.
“So do I,” I said.
Now, on bottomless nights, when Lucy aligns his heart with mine, and his purrs rumble through my chest, I wonder what my murmur feels like to him. And I hope with all of my heart that it feels like purring.
“I write because there are stories that need to be told and writing is the only way that I know to tell them.” – the author