MOMENTS
MOMENTS
Despite the holes in my memory, I do remember moments. Freestanding moments, like pricks of light in a constellation. A lone feather that drifted past my window three years ago; three shabby teddy bears for sale at an auction, threadbare from years of love; a pair of wooden angel wings, and then another pair, both without the angels-- what happened to the angels? The egg on my desk, unnoticed for a week sitting under the lamp—what would it hatch? Maybe an algorithm, suggested a friend. Three separate occasions when I found a bird flying around my living room, chaos until I somehow coaxed each one out after opening a door. But how did they get in? It occurred to me that birds were sometimes harbingers of death, but I gave up superstition a long time ago, although it took me a while to stop knocking on wood.
Birds... I feed them. I buy expensive bird seed and act as their personal chef. Before I replaced my windows with ones that had screens, the birds would occasionally fly off the feeders right into the house. My dogs did NOT approve. Kerfuffles ensued. Finally, I got the brilliant idea to open the window on the opposite side of the house. The birds began to fly straight through. This was an acceptable solution. As long as they were travelers and not tourists stopping in detente was achieved. No more loose feathers in the house but one nuthatch insists on flying into the window every so often. I've learned that the thump does not mean death, only a few seconds stunned on the ground.
I look forward to your posts so much, both the content and the honesty - thank you for being you!