Coffee, the Cow Saint and Reincarnated Cats

 

I suppose that lots of random occurrences that are actually interrelated happen all the time, but being out of my element makes me more aware of them. Today I’m looking at connections that happened because of a cup of coffee.

 

There are few creature comforts from home that I miss, but coffee is one of them. 

 

Fortunately, I have a friend who understands the value of coffee, so with many “namastes” in the direction of Santa Cruz, I got a care package a while back with some lovely, dark espresso. The taste of that first cup of dark roast after six weeks of instant was a truly intoxicating moment. And the smell. I spent a good amount of time with my nose in the bag before I could even bring myself to brew a cup. 

 

The perfect cup of coffee deserves perfect fixings. I decided to go all out and bought a pan of fresh milk from the man who goes door to door through the neighborhood selling it from tin cans that he carries on a pole over his shoulder. Besides, I read somewhere that milk from Indian cows has nearly magical properties. Apparently, so does cow urine, but we won’t go there. 

 

I figured that pan would last me all week, but the next morning there was a knock at my door and there he was with his pails of milk. I see this man all over town, and he charges mere pennies for a pan of milk. Plus, he has sweet, soulful eyes and the most angelic smile I’ve ever seen. I just couldn’t tell him no, so I filled up another pan and put it in my fridge. 

 

Fortunately, there are lots of stray animals around. 

 

Now this is an indulgence, but I like to think that my cat, Emily, who was killed a couple years ago shows up from time to time in different reincarnations. And here she is in India mewling at my front door. 

 

Then I went to the Himalayas for almost three weeks. Surely, this would break the pattern of the cow saint and cats. But no sooner did I get back than I found the cow saint’s two sons going door to door. I knew it was them; they both look just like their father, tall and thin with the same soft eyes and sweet smiles. It’s hard to not fall in love with this family of reed-like men with their kind faces. 

 

And the cat, too, came back too, complaining loudly at the door once or twice a day and looking skinnier than when I left so I made some rice to mix in with the milk and she lapped it up. 

 

Maybe this is what I love about it here--the strange interconnectedness of things, these different threads of different lives that make their way to my door on a daily basis. It’s not just the cow saint and cats, but the retired priest who gives me a different saint’s card whenever I pass him on our evening walks. It’s the paper boy who pushes open my door and walks in to say hello in the morning. Or the disoriented elderly woman with no teeth and red gums who wanders in smiling and looking lost. It’s community and something I didn’t know I was missing until I found it.