This article appeared in the October 2025 edition of the New Jersey Council of the Blind’s publication, the Chronicle.
by Miss Ruth
“When you look at the clouds they are not symmetrical. They do not form fours and they do not come along in cubes, but you know at once that they are not a mess. […] They are wiggly but in a way, orderly, although it is difficult for us to describe that kind of order. Now, take a look at yourselves. You are all wiggly. […] We are just like clouds, rocks and stars. Look at the way the stars are arranged. Do you criticize the way the stars are arranged?” Alan Watts
I’ve lived in my modest ranch home in the suburbs of central Jersey for thirty years, and, in that time, I’ve worked toward my goal of making it into a Cat Café/Spa. I don’t want to open a Café, mind you; I just want it to feel as relaxing and welcoming as one. I call it “Coffee & Catnip.”
So, I’ve cleared the clutter and replaced the harsh lighting. I’ve gotten honeysuckle scented candles and healing crystals. Alexa even has a music playlist option called “spa sounds!”
At the same time, I’ve been making the layout safer for someone with vision loss (i.e., Moi) and that has been a mental shift more than anything.
I had to discard throw rugs (never trust anything in your home that tells you right in its name what it’s going to do to you — it’s going to throw you! Especially if you’re wearing slippers!)
I had to clear the flattened cardboard boxes my cat loves to sit on and look at me, tail twitching contentedly. He’s a special needs cat, so he tends to only rent his food, as it were. Those cardboard boxes help with clean-up when he gets sick, but they are also a tripping hazard for me.
So, it’s a constant assessment of what is best for everyone’s needs.
I’ve realized after many decades on the planet that my needs have to come first. Not just because I pay the mortgage, but because my own needs are always my first responsibility.
So, I set about making the house and yard safer for me to navigate. I replaced the rickety wooden fence in my yard with a solid white one to keep out stray dogs as I puttered around in my yard.
The front porch had no fence, and a precipitous drop that could be dangerous for me, so I put a similar white fence around my front porch.
I tore out the wall-to-wall green carpeting that was thick and difficult to walk on. Revamped the basement so obstacles were cleared.
There’s still work to be done, such as the threshold into my favorite place to be, which is my sunroom, but it’s really improved over time.
The sunroom is really my cat, Squeaky’s, room, truth be told, and he lets me know that every day. Each morning, he serenades me in his caterwauling way until I wake up to tend to his needs. He guides me down the hall to his sunroom, where the huge windows let in a nice amount of light so we can see the birds that come coasting by.
Squeaky and I both love to look out at the yard. I’ve got several solid, full-growth trees surrounding my house. It gives us a lovely landscape to gaze upon. Like Nature’s Netflix!
My trees have survived many a storm, but one day a few years ago, I heard a sudden boom of thunder and saw a crack of lightning so close, it seemed to be inside the house! My Jersey girl came out and I let loose a string of salty expletives. I’ll clean it up for you here, so as to maintain my Kindly Auntie image. Fricken Ay! What just happened?!?
After a moment, I warily opened my back door and saw that the lightning had struck one of my trees, and half of it had fallen onto my house!
Fortunately, it fell onto the part of the house that was connected to the garage. That was an overhang constructed of wood, and the only thing that was damaged was the gutter, which was dented into a V-shape. Although the tree extended across the house and could be seen from the street, we were spared any real damage.
I wandered around the house in shock, wondering what to do next.
At that moment, my doorbell rang. It was my next-door neighbor. When I opened the door, she teared up, looking shocked. “I thought you were dead!” she exclaimed and gave me a hug.
I said, “No, luckily, the tree hit the far side of the garage. I’m okay. Thanks for checking in on me.”
As time passed, I noticed something unexpected as the tree got used to its new incarnation as a living thing that had half its trunk split open — new growth emerged in an unusual spot.
At the base of the tree, almost near the ground, a rebellious branch started shooting out, as if knowing it was defying the odds. It was such an unlikely spot that I was sure it wouldn’t thrive, but it did.
I’ve thought about cutting down the tree since it’s still partially charred and leafless, but it houses an entire eco-system of creatures that all seem to co-exist peacefully.
There’s Steve (no relation to our Council Treasurer ) and Shirley Squirrely; Rocco and Enrique, the raccoons; the bluebirds, whom I’ve named Azure Like it and Indigo Montoya. Oh, not to mention the black stray cat I’ve named Shady. Squeaky looks out his sunroom window faithfully each night, hoping to get a glimpse of his friend.
Just like that tree that lost part of its body and still found a way to grow anew, vision loss can somehow engender new growth that shows up in odd configurations.
For example, losing the vision in my right eye at age 36 jarred me out of my incessant habit of keeping that eye trained on the rear-view mirror as I was driving. It was an anxious impulse that didn’t make me any safer.
Once I lost the vision in that eye, I was forced to keep my left eye on the road most of the time and only check the rear-view on occasion.
I felt as if that experience was a metaphor.
You can’t move down the road ahead by looking backward most of the time. All of our best days are in front of us.
Just like the clouds, rocks and stars. We’re meant to be here, in our own form, at our own pace — shining, wiggling, finding new pathways, and taking up all the space we need. All the other parts in life’s play are taken, so you might as well be yourself! As I see my quirky dream of living in a Cat Café/Spa take shape, I’m reminded, as ever: there’s no place like home.
