Next year, I suppose, I'll just throw the wreath away right after Christmas. I have set it out for the trash guy today, finally, and have given up for good on the finches. This is the third year they have not come. After 15 years of being my small notes of cheer, February through May.
No need to scold the crows again, their part already known if you've read this blog for a while.
It's a door closing, an end of something we liked--those birds building their nest each year and raising their family in the wreath just outside our front door, and after Wayne died, they were a reminder of him, of us, as if I needed one.
It's a beginning, too. Every ending brings a new beginning. Right?
More than just not leaving the wreath up. More than not looking and listening for the birds. Something more. Something positive. Just give me time. I'll think of it.
1 comment:
That's a hard one.
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