Darlene P. Campos earned her MFA in creative writing from the University of Texas at El Paso. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, exercising, and going to museums. She is Ecuadorian-American and lives in Houston, TX with her husband and their eight rescue cats.

Her upcoming novel, The Center of the Earth, a middle grade historical based on Jewish refugees who found safety in Ecuador during the Holocaust, releases on September 9, 2025.

See more of their work below! 

Visit her website at www.darlenepcampos.com

Feature Presentation

During the height of COVID, Jake, a rabbit I adopted after finishing graduate school, died of a genetic disorder. I knew at the time I adopted him that he did not have long to live, but I still wanted to give him the best life possible. Although he lived a year longer than expected, I was completely heartbroken when he died. My husband suggested we get another pet to help me through my grief. Unfortunately, all animal shelters were closed because of the lockdown. Besides, I wasn’t ready for another pet so soon after losing Jake.

A few days later, I went for a long walk to clear my mind. When I returned home, a white cat with brown spots followed me inside, jumped on the recliner, and instantly fell asleep. I took a picture of him and texted David, “This cat just walked into the house with me.” The minute David got home from work, the cat woke up and kissed him on the cheek.

“Maybe we should keep him,” he said, smiling as he held the cat. “I think he likes us.”

Eventually, we named our new cat Levi.

Unbeknownst to us then, more cats would follow me home during my walks and soon, we were outnumbered. Despite the feline crowd, Levi is always at the center. When guests come over, the others run off and hide but Levi stays at the door and greets everyone individually with a playful rub. Each time we have a repair company in the house, Levi follows the employees, watches them fix the problem, and says goodbye with a passionate “meow.”

However, Levi’s curious nature often drives me up a wall. For example, whenever I am preparing dinner, he jumps on the counter next to me and observes me chopping vegetables. Sometimes Levi reaches a paw out and grabs the cutting board, which makes me drop whatever I was chopping and I have to start all over again. Another habit he has is sneaking into the pantry, usually when I am distracted with dinner preparations, and he will grab a bag of cat treats, rip it, and then shake it to distribute the goods to his siblings. Lastly, Levi tends to sneak into the washing machine whenever it is empty and run like it’s his personal treadmill. Yet, no matter how irritating his behavior was earlier in the day, he snuggles with my husband and me every night and we forgive him.

In November 2023, my mother was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. I struggled to remain optimistic and suffered an anxiety-induced seizure the next day. Soon, it was Thanksgiving and I didn’t have much of an appetite. During Thanksgiving lunch at my sister-in-law’s house, a guest mentioned the classic children’s movie The Land Before Time and its main character, Littlefoot, a young apatosaurus whose mother dies early in the plot. Then everyone talked about the death scene of Littlefoot’s mother and how they still remember each detail of it many years later. As a result, the scene replayed in my head. I quickly tuned out the conversation so I would not cry.

But in the evening, when David and I were in bed with Levi between us, the scene returned to my mind. I tried thinking of other subjects to drown it out. Against my will, I sobbed but quieted myself with a pillow so I wouldn’t wake David. I couldn’t believe I was crying over a movie I hadn’t seen in over 25 years, yet no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop. Levi soon perked up from his slumber. He tiptoed over the fuzzy blankets, shoved the pillow away, and then caressed my face with his own. He dried each tear by holding his cheek under my eyes. After I calmed down, I hugged him as he kissed my damp face.

Levi is a Hebrew name and roughly translated, it means “joined.” About two months before he decided to walk into my house, I occasionally saw Levi walking around my neighborhood. At first, he would run away, but as we saw each other more often, he gained confidence and either walked with me or rubbed his chin on my leg. When David and I thought about names for him, our first choice was Lev, which is the Hebrew word for “heart,” a nod to the heart-shaped patch on his left side. We only called him Lev for a day or two because Levi felt more natural. Levi joined our family, he joins us every night at bedtime, and he joins the crowd when guests are over. Most of all, he joined the pieces of my broken heart back together.