The Owl and the Pussy Cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat
by Edward Lear

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
    In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
    Wrapped up in a five pound-note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
    And sang to a small guitar,
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
    What a beautiful Pussy you are,
            You are,
            You are!
    What a beautiful Pussy you are.'

Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl,
    How charmingly sweet you sing.
O let us be married, too long have we tarried,
    But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away for a year and a day,
    To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
And there in the wood a Piggy-wig stood,
    With a ring in the end of his nose,
            His nose,
            His nose!
    With a ring in the end of his nose.

'Dear Pig, are you willing, to sell for one shilling
    Your ring?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.'
So they took it away, and were married next day,
    By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
    Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
    They danced by the light of the moon,
            The moon,
            The moon!
    They danced by the light of the moon.

When I was a child, I loved this poem.  I love it still of course, but not with the complete delight a child does, reveling in a world where cats and owls can fall deeply in love and spend their days sailing the seas and their nights dancing by the light of the moon.  There was something in this poem that went past the daily drudgeries of an adult life of work and my child's life of rules and chores.  It seemed to me it pointed to what truly mattered and to a life where magic permeated everything, was a given.  Why not talking cats and singing owls, and why not love between creatures of air and creatures of earth?  Why couldn't they love and call home another element entirely?  What better place for air and earth to meet and merge?

Yesterday this poem arrived as the poem-of-the day and took me back to my childhood.  And I realized, this poem had become my story.  I'm going to see in a green-hulled boat.  Okay, not pea green but allowances must be made for poetic license.  He serenades me, surrounding me with music, gifting me with song and his beautiful, beautiful voice and at last I am at a place and living a life where music is part and parcel of it, like breathing.  I've never had that and it takes a toll, the music that demands to come forth and the will that must quiet it, silence it because those around you do not feel the pull of it, the necessary nature of it, as I do.  We will get married, he and I, have pledged it already, so early on to be rather shocking to the more practical me, but so perfectly right what else can be done but to say yes, and I will, and whither thou goest, I go?  And we will dance beneath the canopy of stars, beneath the ever changing moon, in all the ways two people dance.  I'm going to say we may dine on quince, but probably not mince, although who knows.  Bryan is an amazing cook and for the first time in my life I will not be the sole provider of sustenance for those I love.

What do you say when your life takes such a wondrous turn, when the stuff of nonsense and dreams becomes your magical reality?  I suppose you just keep sailing and dancing and loving and seeing where that magical boat takes you and hand in hand what adventures unfold.