Big You

My parents have two cats, Mama and Woody. True to their names, Mama is Woody’s mother; she birthed him in the woodpile behind the house before they moved to under the porch.

As “under the porch” cats, they’d come to the basement window and we’d open it and we could feed and pet them with no problem. Woody would even lounge there, with his feet dangling into the house.

Last winter, on very cold days they were moved into the garage. But that only prompted them to scatter when someone would walk in to feed them. My dad’s theory is that they like seeing us from the waist up, the way they looked at us through the window under the porch.

“They like Half-Size You,” he says, making me think of candy bar portions every time. “They’re not sure about Big You. Big You is scary.”

You’re definitely more approachable as Half-Size You. You don’t overwhelm. You don’t take up a ton of space or need constant attention. It’s easier to gain trust and to keep the boat floating without rocking it. Let’s face it: The world needs Half-Size You and your calm, orderly decisions.

But there are times when it’s crucial that Big You shows up: When you’re determined to make something work even though you haven’t figured out how yet, when you’ve had enough of “wait and see,” when everything seems to be spiraling out of control, when there’s a spider under the sink.

There’s a time to tiptoe and a time to charge in, and you can utilize the best of Half-Size You and Big You. Some days you quietly cover steady ground. Others, you put on your Big Kid pants and crash onto the scene, quiet be damned.

~

My third book, Stories From the Road, is great summer reading. Grab your copy today.