The Two-Day Friend

Friday: Mama robin in the rhododendrons pushes the runt out of the nest. Rich puts him/her back in.

Saturday morning: The runt is back on the ground. We decide to put him/her in a box with some pieces of wool. Rich spends some time explaining to E. and L. that they bird may not survive, but we can care for him/her for a little while and try to help. We all find worms as we are already spending the weekend gardening and working around outside.

Saturday: The bird gradually perks up and seems to enjoy human interaction. E. begins to cuddle him/her, cupping him/her with her hands in the box. The bird seems to like this.

Sunday morning: The bird chirps in the morning. We feed him/her worms throughout the day, and a few drops of water.

Sunday evening: We are having friends for dinner outside. We show the bird to them and their nearly four year-old son. We are proud of our care, and that the bird seems healthy.

Monday morning: I wake early to write a letter of recommendation for someone, and the kitchen is silent. I don't want to wake him/her. I spend an hour working and then the house awakes. Everyone dresses and Rich goes outside to find some worms.

But the bird is no longer with us.

It is a sad day.

I am surprised by how quickly we all began to love the bird.

This afternoon we'll look at this book, which is in the library of L's preschool: http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Bird-Margaret-Wise-Brown/dp/0064433269

Maybe that will help.

In honor of Birdie, here's a beautiful sad song that has lately risen above "Donnie Darko" for me:

Spring Green Things

Things I'd like to do this spring:

1. Make a terrarium.
2. Clear out my scary bedroom so seedlings can sprout in the sunshine near the radiator.
3. Plant a full-sun medicinal herb garden in a newly planned space near the roses.
4. Plan out summer camping trips.
5. Craft two personal web sites.
6. Make more things out of beeswax.
7. Watch more movies that knock my socks off.
8. Pick up the violin again.
9. Protect, nurture, rest, discover, laugh, meet, thank.

Many Returns

Today, E. wanted to come to the grocery store with me, even though I promised her it would be boring and I would feel irritated, at a grocery store on a Saturday. She didn't mind, and I secretly was happy. "Sometimes I feel like I miss things," she said, referring to errands. I promised her that I save all the fun things for her. And lately, I do. Except for that mid-week bookstore trip I'm still plotting, and hope to take soon. I'll be there for hours, I'm certain: absolutely hours.

We brought home some chocolate to share with Lena. There is always food in our day, and it helps me remember the ways it brings us together.

Adding Mo

Reconnect

Renovate + refurbish (spirit)

Redact (mistakes are good)

Reclaim truth

R's in Verse: Thomas Lux

The daily fare, every day ugly in some way,
every day beautiful and gone.
--Against which: no, not always
against or else the bitter grinding, daughter,
the bitter grinding leaves you nothing, nor no will
to go forth--in one hand the rage
I hope you have, in the other the rapture.

Thomas Lux, from "For My Daughter When She Can Read"

All My Resolutions Have the Letter

1. Rest

2. Reading

3. Riot (when it is called for)

4. Rising (early rising makes peace)

5. Reliability (personal)

6. Resilience (so helpful when nurtured!)

7. Redirect extra time from things to people

Felt Words Redux

Have learned of the quote again:

"If it is to be, it is to be by me."

I Was a Good Mom Before....

...I had an extrovert.

"I want to watch sports," she says to me a few days ago. "I want to watch basketball."

I found basketball on a sports station. It was not quite the kind she was thinking of, and it was hard to determine what she really envisioned.

It was another moment in many moments when I both admired and felt confounded by her, and vaguely, around the edges of my raw introvert nerves, wondered how we could have so recently shared a blood supply.