Those in the class of 1963 have turned 70 years old or soon will.
There were only about 36 graduates that year in the small south Texas town of Freer.
Many of us had started first grade together and everybody knew everybody.
Graduation would scatter us like dust in the brush country where we grew up.
We would journey into the 1960s with hopes and dreams of the young
and then emerge in a new millennium where all the dreams may not have come true.
The memories linger sweetly.
Once upon a time I had six cats and two cat doors; three were inside cats and three were outside cats. These were their names.
All but Macavity are buried in the back yard. Today I am down to my last cat, Wiccan. She is 15 years old. I hope she goes before we do because no on else would take her. She does not like to come inside. We bring her in only in bad weather. Daughter, who loves cats, would not take her because Wiccan does not like her and hisses if Daughter tries to come near her. Son would not take her as she does not play well with his two dogs when he visits.
WICCAN RESTING IN A FLOWER POT