An old Calico Cat . . .

Sorry, I've been negligent in my posts. Got a little bit tied up with a thing called life. While I was sitting around enjoying my pity party, I noticed this old Calico Cat sitting on my fireplace mantel. It's just an old piece of plaster, but it means so much to me. Let me share it with you . . .
This is the story of an old Calico cat. Not a real live, breathing feline, just one of those white, chalky things you can pick up in any arts and crafts stores.
This white plaster cat was special, for he had the good fortune to be hand selected by my “real” mother. I’m not sure who came up with this term, “real.” And, I’ll only use for identification purposes. From here on out she shall be called my mother. I was one of the lucky ones; I had two moms; a “real” one and a “step” one. I grew up in the home of my father and stepmother, and only became acquainted with my mother when I was in my late teens.
But, let’s get back to the Calico cat. My mother discovered this chalky kitty back in the days of decoupage, early 1970’s. Under the tender magic of my mother’s hands, Calico cat came to life one pinking-sheared patch at a time. When it was completely covered in patch-work material, my mother painted a heavy coat of varnish-like stuff all over him. She vowed he would last a lifetime. Calico cat instantly became a member of our family. From his view-point on the fireplace he kept a watchful eye on my mother through her good times and through her bad ones.
In 1977, my mother passed from this earth and Calico cat simply vanished. No one seemed to know what happened to him, or where he went. He was soon forgotten.
A couple of years ago, I was talking with my Aunt Rachel, my mother’s sister, and as relatives tend to do, we began reminiscing. Sure enough, the Calico cat came up.
“Do you remember that old Calico cat that used to sit on Mother’s fireplace?” I asked her.
I could tell she was searching her memory banks. She said she had a faint recollection of the cat. But, didn’t have a clue as to what happened to him. Again, Calico cat was forgotten.
Several months later, I was visiting my Aunt Rachel in Wills Point, Texas. I spotted Calico cat lounging under the sewing machine.
“Aunt Rachel, you found the cat,” I shouted, from the bedroom. “Where on earth did you find it?”
“Is that it?” she quizzed.
“Yep, that’s Calico cat.”
“Where was he?” I asked her again.
“I got him at a church bazaar,” she said.
I stood there stunned. How could this be?
Calico cat had originated in Carrollton, Texas, which is at least a two hour drive from Wills Point. Apparently he was in some boxes of Mother’s stuff that was donated to charity after her death. Then, through some providential chain of events, and some thirty years later had found his way to a church bazaar in my aunts hometown.
I’ve learned more about my mother from this Calico cat in the last few years; than I did the entire ten years I was able to spend with her. I think it is because I watched her craft this cat. I remember her talking about the patchwork design being kind of homey. And, homey was something she was unaccustomed to, but wanted so desperately.
When I look at Calico cat, I see her painstakingly cut each one-inch square with her pinking shears and gently position them on the chalky feline body, slowly transforming it into the Calico cat. I remember how good it felt being near her and longing to know her better.
Since Calico cat’s miraculous return, Aunt Rachel and I have had many discussions concerning my mother. I learned my mother spent years struggling, learning to live with the ugliness of her childhood. And, how that ugliness often crept into her adult life. At the age of 45 all the ugliness and hurt caught up with her. . .
Calico cat now sits among my books and other treasures. From his perch, he keeps a watchful eye over the happenings in my life . . . the good, the bad . . . and every once in a while, I can see my mother’s gentle hands lovingly place a patchwork scrap on Calico cat. I truly believe Calico cat was created with her love to watch over me when she could not.