From Joy to Bent Over Sobbing With A Baby Bird

I was walking this afternoon. Buoyed by sunshine and Taylor Swift. My shirt at my waist, sweat and sunscreen stinging my eyes.

Just bopping along, feeling good. Alive. Sunshiney and satisfied.

When a fuzzy baby bird slow blinked at me from the sidewalk.

This little buddy stared at me, its chest rising and falling slowly. 

Buggy little eyes staring.

A sweet little nature connection. I wondered what to do for them.

When I looked over and saw its sibling close by, upside down, wing askew.

Dead.

It’s so fucking close. Sunshine lifey gratefulness.

Death.

I bent over, sobbed. Flooded with sensation.

That awkward little stare blink looked like me, a lost child. Its dead beloved right there.

I remembered my mother laying next to me, almost dead. 

I relive this scene a lot. 

Then I took a pic of the alive fuzzy one and walked home.

Is there a better way to end a scene like that?

I’m so used to moving from joy to despair and then cutting an apple and changing clothes.

Life, I guess.

I used to get stuck for hours and days in despair. Still do when it builds up, unprocessed and unexpressed.

Often, I move in and out like the sun moves through the clouds.

Flexibility and compassion are my goals these days.

No promises you won’t still cry a lot.

But when you do, you can cry until you’re done and then get back to the rest of your life.