The bird had been moved. Out of the grass and beside my car. Driver's side. Bad omen, I thought. Maybe. Perhaps it was just left there by a cat who had been startled. Or an omen. I vary between superstition and rationality in my life. I root for the latter, but can't let go of the former. There may be something to it- superstition, that is. Who am I to say for sure?
Anyway, it was morning when I saw the bird and the accompanying flies. Did it mean my death, or a death, or that some bad mojo was coming down the pipeline? Maybe, maybe, maybe. All I know is that was the day I got sick, more than I had been in a long time. And then there was news of my cousin and the word he awaited that could be devastating. And then word of the suicide that fell just inside the rim of my social sphere.
That bird. Sometimes, especially lately, I don't see how I can get through this life. I am lonelier than I've ever been. Life is grimmer as I go. How can I handle it? I have not advanced as a person in a timely manner. Nature spits out its rejects.
But there is hope and there is defiance. To live, to look through the murk to the clarity, to walk through fear. The bird was gone when I came home later in the day. I couldn't help but notice.
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