Above and beyond the regular grief we all face in daily living, life flings messes our way to further aggravate. I got tired of mopping up…real tired and real cranky.
How pretty! We exchanged a glance or two.
Mother?
Oh, I know, I know, young Robin.
Oh, I know, I know, young Robin.
Mothers. In my adult life, I rarely depended on my mother as she had plenty of her own worries. I was always quite independent, even as a child, and we were both alright with it.
Was wary of the crashing water behind but, gee,
Robin would have loved a few sips of coolness.
I know, I know…
I know, I know…
Not often, I needed her to listen. It was very nice when she did because I knew she knew me better than anyone else. Actually, she could read my voice and my face like a book. I hated that sometimes. She’d raise her left eyebrow at me and I knew she knew something I hadn’t disclosed. Damn.
When we connected, she always knew how my life was going without given a single detail. The tiniest inflection in my voice was a dead giveaway, no matter how I might have tried to mask my true emotions, even over the phone. She knew. She also knew I would be just fine.
Yes, I’d be just fine.
I miss that about her. She had good instincts.
Can I do this all by myself? Mother? Anyone?
Will I fall?
I know… I know, young Robin.
I know… I know, young Robin.
Young Robin meandered around the pond for a long time that morning. I felt lighthearted. Laughing at the reflection of my disheveled self in the patio window, I mumbled out loud, “Holy crap, I resonate with a bird.” Now that’s kinda strange, and hey, didn't I also have a conversation with a tree frog? Scary, huh.
Young Robin fled without a sip of water that morning. I’m sure its next visit to the pond was just fine.
15 comments:
Mary the Bird whisperer..yep that fits!
Such a thoughtful post. I hope all is ok with you now.
There's nothing better than to immerse yourself in their simple little lives.
I love them for that.
So beautiful. Coming here always makes me slow down and breath. You are magic, you know that - yes indeed you are. You are a tonic for the soul.
I love young robins with their spotty breasts--you can see the thrush in them at that stage. And I like how Nina put it--immersing yourself "in their simple little lives." That's always good for what ails me too.
I'm with Tim. I ALWAYS feel better when I'm with you in your words and immages.
So I wonder what birdy blog young robin wrote (or pecked) when he got home.
Aren't they dear at this stage. And baby robins, with their tufts of feathers. I love them.
Fabulous shots, Mary! I do love watching the babes as they wander about.
And I know what you mean about your mother. Mine is the same: always knows, always ahead of the curve, always there when I need. She's facing a difficult road now with cancer, so your post really hit me where it counted. Thank you.
Oh, good blogger buddy...I'm so glad you're back. No one else can make be laugh and cry in the same breath. Wonderful photographs of the little robin and insightful reflections about your mom.
So nice, Mary! Makes me think of my mother and how I wish some things are different. Ah well, the photos, as usual, are lovely.
The perfect post...it's ok and somehow the Robin felt your spirit as well.
I love the thoughts you put into the post. I will be looking at other juvenile birds differently from now on!
Dawn's right. . . I can imagine you seeing down dangling your feet in the water as you talk to baby robin.
Your pictures are always magic, Mary.
Awww, what a sweet little robin. You got some terrific shots. And I loved the dialogue too! You make me smile. And I enjoy coming here.
Hugs
Oh, how fortunate that you were able to get so many wonderful photos! The robins here will sometimes frequent the back field, but they scatter before I can snap their photos.
Great photos!
Robin
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