Kitten's Lullaby

⏱ ~4 min reading

In a small hut, where the smell of dry mint tea and freshly baked bread was, there lived a grandmother. And with her grandmother lived a kitten. His name was Dream.

Dream was white, with a reddish spot on his back and slightly darker paws. His eyes were green, like fresh grass after the rain. And Dream loved one thing in the world most of all. More than anything.

He loved to sleep on his grandmother's lap.

When it started to get dark outside, when the light outside the window became soft, orange, and the swallows stopped circling over the roof, Grandma would sit in her old rocking chair by the stove. On her lap lay a woven blanket - colorful, made of squares. Grandma would take knitting needles and a ball of wool, and begin to knit quietly, quietly. The knitting needles sang faintly: "jingle-tsok, jingle-tsok.".

Dream came from afar. He knew it was time. He walked across the room on his soft, velvety paws. He stopped in front of the chair. He looked up at Grandma as if asking permission.

"Go, little one," said the grandmother, and put the knitting needles down on the barrel. She patted her knees. "The place is ready.".

Dream jumped. Gently, without haste. He made three small circles on his grandmother's lap - that was his cat's rule. He would circle three times, then wrinkle the warm blanket with his paws - to make it softer - and lie down in a curl. Nose to paws. He covered his eyes with his tail.

And then grandma started.

She purred softly. She didn't sing, no. She just closed her eyes and let out a gentle melody from her lips without words — "m-m-m-m-m-m." An old, family tune. Her mother had once taught her this melody. And her mother had been taught it by her mother. And so the melody was passed down from generation to generation — through her grandmother's lips to the cat's ears.

And Dream—Dream purred in response. A deep, warm, chesty purr that made his whole little body vibrate. «Mur-r-r-r-r.» Grandma felt the vibration in her knees and smiled.

So they fell asleep together. Grandma and the kitten.

The kitten was in her warmth, among the soft squares of the blanket, among the scent of lavender and mint that came from Grandma's dress. Grandma was in quiet joy that there was someone alive, warm, and loving nearby. Her hut was small. Her children had long since grown up and gone to live in big cities. She was often alone. But when Dream lay on her lap, she knew she was not alone.

Peace - it doesn't come when you're alone. Peace - it's born together. In two bodies lying side by side and hearing each other. In two hearts beating in a common rhythm.

And if you, little one, sometimes feel sad at night — and it happens to everyone, don't be afraid — remember your grandmother and Dream. And do as they did.

Hug someone.

Even someone. Even your teddy bear - hug it so that your hearts beat next to it. Even your favorite blanket - roll it up and hold it to your chest. Even your mother's hand, if she's nearby - put it on your cheek. Even your father's shirt that smells like home.

Your little heart knows how to fall asleep. It learned this a long time ago, when you were still tiny and lying in your mother's arms. It remembers this warmth. It always looks for something similar. And when it finds it, it calms down. And it falls asleep.

Dream still sleeps on his grandmother's lap. He has been for many years. He has grown a little, he is no longer as small as he used to be. But the habit has remained. Every evening, as soon as it gets dark, he comes to the chair and spins his three little circles.

And the grandmother says to her neighbor, through the fence, in a quiet, warm voice:

"You know, my dear, this cat is the best part of my day. When he lies down, when he purrs, all my worries melt away like a snowflake in the palm of my hand.".

Good night, my little one. Whoever you hug today — a teddy bear, a blanket, mom, dad, grandma — hug them tightly. And sleep. Because someone hugs you back. Always. It's just not always visible. Good night.