Under a Red Roof

Thursday morning and afternoon. My goodness, it was beautiful, the kind of day that sends the soul aloft. I spotted a Red Breasted Sap Sucker in the dogwood, a new find for our yard. Later, when walking through the living room, a flurry of wings caught my eye, Robins, a half dozen of them, rooting, scattering leaves, and running alongside Golden Crowned Sparrows, two squawking Scrub Jays, and one Northern Flicker fluffed and delicately sipping water from the bath. I reveled at all the life on a mere 5300 square feet of land.

My friend Kristin came over, and we shared our stories, mine nearly finished, despite procrastinating, and hers just emerging from its shell. I am grateful for our time together, time to be encouraged and laugh, be dazzled by a thought caught mid-flight and gorgeous, to drop the bullshit and write, write, write. Cast fear aside and hop into the cocoon is the order of the day. It might get messy and loud, all those voices and threads inside, but they are nothing, really, and worth the butterfly.

I drove to the west side for Indian (dot, not feather) groceries and ankle boots. As often happens in that part of town, I got turned around thinking I knew where I was going and traversed the TV highway twice. All worked out fine in the end, spicy bhujia, candied fennel seeds, and tea, though the boots had to be ordered instead of procured for immediate gratification. First world problems.

I came home happy, ebullient even, got on the web, and learned my cousin’s girlfriend had died. Crash went my heart. Though I never met her, by all accounts she was a person I would like, determined, strong, talented, and beautiful, the type who radiated kindness and positivity. She was killed while doing what she loved, and, at a mere twenty-six, what she would have liked to do for some time. Oh, how nature reminds us to be grateful and present, and say, “I love you.”