Tree Tuesday: The Quiet Comfort

The clock on the wall read Tuesday, and the air held that distinct chill of a clear November morning. It was also Veterans Day, a day of flags, solemn ceremonies, and quiet reflection.

In our small living room, the atmosphere was perfectly, wonderfully still. That stillness, however, wasn’t earned by chance.

Tree, my handsome Russian Blue, was perfectly illustrating the luxurious concept of peacetime. He was stretched across the worn velvet of the old armchair, directly centered in a sun patch that had angled through the window. His silver-blue coat absorbed the warmth, making him look less like a cat and more like a shimmering, expensive piece of velvet ribbon laid out on display.

His tail twitched only once, a slow, lazy movement, and his massive purr rumbled through the silence, loud enough to feel when I set my coffee mug down on the nearby table. He was utterly, blissfully safe, concerned only with the immediate perfection of the sunbeam.

I watched him and thought about the parades on television and the ceremonies at the memorials. I thought about the men and women who stood guard on distant, chaotic shores, or who had returned carrying burdens no civilian could fully comprehend. They fought for the exact kind of mundane, simple peace that Tree was currently exploiting. They fought for the right for a house to be quiet, for the streets outside to be predictable, and for a cat to nap without a flicker of concern.

“You know, buddy,” I whispered, reaching out to stroke the plush, dense fur behind his ears, “you get to enjoy this sun patch because of a whole lot of heroes.”

Tree responded not with understanding, but with a deeper, more satisfied rumble. He stretched again, digging his tiny velvet claws into the upholstery without consequence. The simple domestic routine—the bills, the work, the quiet comfort—was the prize, and Tree was the living, breathing, purring embodiment of it.

I ran my hand across his warm spine one last time, taking a moment of deep gratitude for the Veterans who traded their own peace and safety for ours.

It was a beautiful, ordinary Tuesday. It was a beautiful, safe Veterans Day. And thanks to those who served, Tree got to enjoy every single second of his sun-drenched nap in quiet, secure America. Thank you, Veterans.