Bird on the Window Sill

I was reading an article about grief.  It mentioned that people who are grieving frequently imagine that their loved one is still around, perhaps as a bird, dog or cat.  This reminded me of a episode from a few years back.  After a few dates, a man I knew invited me to visit him at his house near the beach in Wilmington, North Carolina.  He seemed like an okay fellow, I loved North Carolina as a child, so I said "yes."

As soon as I walked into his house, I was afraid it was going to be a long weekend.  Old newspapers everywhere, coffee grounds on the kitchen table, dishes in the sink.  His wife had died a few months before so I was ready to cut him some slack, but it was difficult.  I quickly retreated to the space his daughter had prepared for me.  It was a refuge amid the clutter.

It wasn't too long before I noticed a beautiful red bird.  It was sitting on the sill every time I looked out of the window.  I imagined that the wife's soul was lingering.  I started talking to the wife/bird.  I found out a lot about this man who was brutally left behind by her sudden death.  Enough to relax more than I thought I would.

We had a good time that weekend.  I didn't tell him about the bird, but he owed that creature a lot.

And so did I.

My Valentine

Today is Valentine's Day and I was delighted to find one red envelope in my mail box.  No return address and it was not signed except for: "guess who loves you?"  What a great way to spread the love!  I immediately started imagining this person or that one...the more the merrier.

And, although curious,  I am quite comfortable living with mystery.  So,  I am happy to live with the unsigned card.

Was it you?

The Next Chapter

Glenn Close is nominated for best actress at this year's Academy Awards.  I hope she wins.  The movie is "The Wife."  It's the story of a man winning the Nobel Prize for literature.  He and his wife travel to Oslo to accept the prize and the glory.

We learn that the wife came into the writer's life as a talented student.  She succumbs to being told by another woman that the stories she wants to tell would never find a publisher.  She marries her mentor and settles for a literary life of secret contribution.

My favorite scene is the last one.  I won't give away the plot except to say that, on an airplane, she opens the notebook on her lap to a blank page.  A look of quiet triumph and anticipation crosses her face.

We know what she will do next.