Wren Sent

Shortly after I spilled my juice, I got a call from a nurse sitting with my dad. It was very embarrassing to spill my juice at lunchtime in front of all the preschoolers, but there was no use crying over it. The nurse was called by Dad's housekeeper when she couldn't get into his house this morning. Dad was extremely weak. He's in the hospital now, apparently with the beginnings of pneumonia. I'm extremely grateful that my brother could get there quickly to be with him and keep tabs on Dad's clarity of thought.

This evening amidst the flurry of phone calls, I kept seeing bird movements from the corner of my eye. This bird really wanted to call attention to itself, walking along the crosspiece of the fence and making Olympic hop-skip-jumps. It's vertical tail let me know this was an unusual visitor. I don't know if I've ever had a wren on my little condo patio. You might identify it as a Bewick's wren, and that would be correct. I know it was a message from my mom letting me know whatever happens with Dad will be good. This odd hopping visitor brought me comfort, courage, and permission to be a little bit weepy.

My happy Thanksgiving visitor

The turkey is in the oven. The stuffing is made. I've added a dilly swiss green bean casserole to our traditional menu in honor of the fiftieth birthday of the Campbell's mushroom soup green bean casserole.

It's too soon to start the sauerkraut and mashed potatoes. For one thing, the college freshman won't wake up for at least an hour. I'm not sure when the grad student will be over from his dad's house. It's quiet, in a homey way.

While checking my email I realized a bird was chirping at me in a very close and insistent way. As I scanned the patio and the shed roof the chirps got even more emphatic. Look! Look up here! I'm here! I'm here!

When I spied the little tannish-grey-green bird at the top of the fence, just ten feet away, it chirped twice more, then did something quite surprising. Like an Olympic triple-jumper, it hopped in three huge hops, each over three feet along the fence top, making sure I could notice its dark eye stripe. Then it was gone behind the shed. It hasn't been back as I've typed this.

I felt a huge wave of happiness and closeness with Fritzi. Then the tears just flooded. I will talk to my dad later today, buy I won't be able to voice this experience. Some experiences have to be written.

Warm and cold memories

The little grey-green bird flitted through my patio for a few seconds this afternoon. All the birds are agitated. Maybe the weather is changing.

Instead of thinking spring Mother's Day thoughts, I am remembering a favorite event from childhood. Fritzi would be wearing a soft charcoal winter coat that wrapped instead of buttoned.

I wonder if Eastridge Presbyterian Church still sponsors a Boy Scout troop. When I was a kid the troop held an annual pancake feed fundraiser. The Boy Scout Pancake Feed was a red letter, capital letter event on our calendar. It was pretty much guaranteed to be held on the very coldest night of the year, and was a major Eastridge social event. We would all come out of our igloos bundled to the max, drive to the church, have to park so far away that we should have just walked through the snow and ice, to stand in the serving line for the pancakes and sausage. The scout leaders would be whomping up the pancakes, the Boy Scouts would be busing tables or helping carry plates for little kids. Adults would be visiting with neighbors they hadn't seen since lawnmowing season ended, and the kids would be hanging out with their friends from school. It would be so cold in the foyer of the church with all the people coming and going, stamping the snow off their boots, but downstairs in the fellowship hall it would be so steamy warm and filled with the smell of syrup, coffee, and sausage. The hall would be a beehive of voices, and the energy was so good. Excitement would eventually give way to the sleepiness of a tummy full of pancakes, and daddies would have to carry little ones home to bed. Makes me want to tie a neckerchief and get out the Log Cabin.