Back then, when we decided we would have two kittens, we were thinking of one boy and one girl. Picasso’s name was never in question! We thought we would name the little girl Françoise—after Pablo Picasso’s partner, the painter Françoise Gilot. After a long search, it turned out that we were expecting two little male kittens from a Lithuanian breeder. We named the other little boy Matisse, because of his lifelong friendship with Picasso. Françoise was no longer mentioned.
When this autumn I started looking for a kitten to keep Picasso company, it never even crossed my mind to look for a female. Strangely enough, despite all my efforts, I kept missing out on the kittens I had chosen. Many breeders live in the countryside, and I had to plan when I could travel to see the little ones. After a while, I decided to let go of my expectations—let the cat come who Life intends for us!
Françoise surpasses all our dreams! We didn’t know it, but she was exactly who was missing from our lives.
One day, I remembered something a friend of mine once said about her life and its details:
“In the end, everything that truly mattered came true,” she said. “Not the way or when I had planned, but the way Life intended. And looking back at how things unfolded, that plan was much better than mine.”
I think I feel the same way about Françoise. Life had a much better plan for our meeting—both in timing and in circumstances. Lately, I often think of a “classic” line in this context: everything in my life is going according to plan—but they’re someone else’s plans… And yes… from the perspective of a bigger plan, I am exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what I need to do.
/In the photo: Françoise Gilot and Pablo Picasso/
/This piece was written years ago. As I return, it finds its place here once again, unchanged./
When All Seems Lost — and Even When It Doesn’t… As a writer, I read more than average. Not necessarily books that fall within my immediate interests, but rather those I can learn from, marvel at, analyze word by word, and sometimes even those that demand more effort from me than usual. That is how it is with Alice Munro. I bought my first book by her when she received the Nobel Prize. Then life happened, and the volume sat on my bookshelf—either I had no time for it, or it lingered somewhere at the bottom of my list of priorities. When I finally picked it up, I could hardly believe my eyes—or my reaction. First, I was utterly outraged; my blood pressure shot through the roof in an instant, and I almost started swearing in disbelief. I had barely skimmed the first few lines, yet that was enough to know: it was perfect. A true masterpiece. Excellence among the excellent. Every word reached the deepest layers of my soul. I was touched by its purity, its delicacy, the noblest simpli...

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