The world can offer random gifts or blessings, and some of them are ones we deserve to keep in our lives. Little did I know that one of those blessings wasn’t just any coincidence. 

Sprawled out on the couch like a cat in a sunspot on a bright, warm, sunny August afternoon, I had been soaking up the rays of light that flowed through the window. My parents worked outside gardening and cleaning up around the yard. Hearing my mom’s urgent voice calling my name, I jumped out of my spot. “Bayleigh, come here,” she directed. “And get Bri, too.”

I sat for a moment, scenarios racing through my head. Scurrying to get shoes on, I yelled my sister’s name when I darted out the front door, hopping down the brown wooden porch. Holding rough binoculars in his hand, my dad stood near the small, stone driveway that divided our property from our neighbor’s. 

“I think there’s a litter of kittens out near the barn over there,” my mom pointed out, motioning towards the gigantic white barn across the neighbor’s yard.

Striding to where my dad stood, I looked for myself, making out something that looked like black blurs, but there were a few white ones too. My dad hurried to the house to retrieve two plastic bowls which he filled with water and cat food. After he came back, I followed behind him, trying to make my way through the long grass that no one has mowed in a long time. Once we trudged closer, I witnessed four small kittens scattering to hide from us. I hurtled back to the house, telling my sister and mom my new findings. 

“There’s four kittens over there,” I managed to breathe after sprinting. “Two black ones and the other two are black with white on them.”

My sister loudly gasped as if she were just stabbed. She’s always loved cats, and now knowing that she would probably be able to interact with them made her even more excited.

My dad hurried back, telling us more about the litter.

“Their eyes have gunk in them, and their fur is all rough and matted,” he informed. “Three of them keep tearing the food up, but the other one is a runt and can barely even get to it. It kept chasing me after I tried leaving twice; I had to keep taking it back. I’m going to grab a box to put them in.”  He walked away with my mom, but he uttered to her something that I couldn’t quite make out. 

He came back out from the dull garage with a brown cardboard box with a light, airy sheet inside of it for extra comfort. I watched as he made his way over to the barn to gather the stray kittens. I anticipatedly waited for him to come back with the group of newborns. He told my mom to grab a clear plastic container to bathe them in to and make sure they’re okay. After he returned, I peered inside the box to catch a glimpse at the kittens. Two of them were pure plack, and the other two were mostly black but with white markings. 

“Go back inside for a little bit, so we can clean them up some,” my dad ordered me. Heading back up the porch, I swung the front door open and plopped back down into my original position where I lay before. 

After about twenty minutes, my mom came inside to let me and my sister know that the kittens were almost done being washed and that they wanted to tell me something about them, too. I walked out to the garage where the smell of wood shavings and dust floated around and pricked my nostrils, making my eyes water a little. My dad was carefully setting down the last one when I went outside. 

“Hey, come here,” he motioned me over to the box where the kittens were temporarily staying. He squatted down to pick up one of the fluffy black and white ones. As he lifted it up, its crystal bright blue eyes were like ice shards, piercing into my own. It had a black marking on its face on the sides between its nose, and a small black spot on one side, looking like half of a mustache. I studied its hind legs, and realization dawned on me. The kitten had no leg. The small runt of the group that was always being left behind had no hind left leg. 

I stood, stunned. A rush of empathy flowed through me. Watching the way my dad held the little newborn kitten must have been exactly the way he held me in the hospital right before the doctors took me away from them into another room after informing my parents that I was born missing my right forearm. 

“This little one kept following me back when I tried leaving the food. I don’t know why. It could barely even see, even with the tall grass,” my dad noted. The little cat let out a tiny meow, and I couldn't help but instantly fall in love with its wide eyes, scanning in the world around it.

After a few weeks of caring for the kittens, we took three of them to the animal shelter. The little runt and tripod of the litter, who we later  discovered was a girl, we decided to call her Akasha. We kept her because sometimes in life we are blessed with moments of special circumstances, which are no coincidence.