The Bird

Rennie spoke the other day about taking a moment to soak it all in, trying to take in life around him and not forcing it tobe what he wanted it to be, but rather him being what it wanted him to be. I know Grubbs will likely disagree, bless his agnostic little heart, but I stand enthralled in a Rennie-like experience.

For the past three weeks, a bird has taken up residence at my house. Every night, at 7:30 exactly, it shows up, nestles into a corner overhang on my front porch, sticks its beak into the corner, and sleeps. I watched it leave Tuesday morning, and it went from one corner, along the overhang to the opposite corner, and then flew off.

But every night it does this. I watched it arrive tonight, watched it go through the same procedure, curling into the corner, and I realized something. The bird feels safe. It must, for it to come back as often as it does, especially every night for three straight weeks. But this bird has a safe haven, a sanctum sanctorum to rest the night.

I realize that the bird is closer to God than I am. The bird can sleep at night, knowing that it will wake up in the same corner in the morning. I go to sleep knowing that I will wake up in the same bed, assuming of course that I wake up, but that's where the similarities end.

I wish I knew how to deal with it. It's like an epiphany, but you only get half of the revelation now. I wish I knew how to deal with it.