Heralding the arrival of a stranger.

Neamchiontach. 

I hear his voice and look over to see Caleb standing in the screen door. I've been out here on the porch for hours listening to the sparrows sing their morning song from the safety of the trees and I've been watching a fat brown squirrel absolutely decimate the suet cake I hung up for the tiny birds. I decided to make one chockful of big seeds to help them have lots of energy and sustenance in the heat but all that did was bring the larger birds and the fat rodents. I know they're here, I know the boys want crow friends so badly but I only want the tiny little birds. The chickadees. The goldfinches and sparrows. The thrushes and the juncos. 

My coffee is barely warm now but the birds are so loud I don't want to go inside so perfect timing.

He holds up the coffee pot. We went back to a regular coffee maker a while ago and it's what works. I nod and he comes out. He waited for permission. Another first in a long line of firsts with my Diabhal, because he is not accustomed to not being in charge for this incredible length of time. 

It's been forever. 

It remains a constant.

I really like this. 

Please, I nod and he comes out on the porch. Bare feet. Linen pants and a waffle shirt. Unshaven but rested. Permanently on vacation. Liquidated save for a few things. We're out of the real estate business. We're out of the Gods and Monsters business. We're out of the drama. We are exhausted. We are old. I don't even know what we are, I just know that if I go to his suite he no longer locks me in and no longer makes me cry. 

He takes my cup and turns away to pour. Safety first. Ha. What a stark difference from probably my entire life. He turns back and places the cup gently on the table. 

Thank you. 

Would you like breakfast?

No, thank you. I'm fine for now. 

He takes that as hope, as when I skip breakfast we have a snacky brunch consisting of bread, cheese, olives and more coffee. It's lovely. 

I'll leave you to your book then. 

I laugh. I don't have a book. I'm communing with nature. 

Always communing with something. And with a laugh he disappears back inside. A chickadee comes and lands on the railing and he laughs too but in birdsong. I wish I could laugh in birdsong. That would be neat.

 I found a baby bird in the roses this morning, stiff and cold and I buried him in the woods. I cried for just a minute but frankly this is life. There were no injuries that I could see, and if some tiny soul has to die on my watch then in my garden would be the absolute best place for it. Everything is in bloom, it is cool and quiet, lush and green and no one is allowed to disturb the peace that exists there. The whole front of the property is a neutral zone. No arguments allowed, no raised voices. No construction and no bad energy. It's a need, not a want but no one disrespects that edict and for that I am forever grateful and contented there. 

I was picking up pieces from the windchime. It was a twenty-five year old set of mini chimes that I bought in the prairies and it never made any noise but all of the strings were rotten and many of the chimes had fallen in the wind last night. That's the only reason I was in the roses, otherwise I never would have known. 

In any case, the bird is free now for real, his little feathered soul protected by some words I said and I wiped my face on my hand and went back inside for toast and coffee. I have marmalade and fresh grounds and good rustic homemade bread and so it was lovely to spend an hour enjoying my food. I am left to my own devices to savour the second half of my coffee after spending the first half with the boys. They drink their coffees in one go, or at least in less than the time it takes me. They don't like lukewarm coffee. I can easily finish a cup I forgot about when I find it hours later and so I take my time now. 

It's the calm before the storm. No air conditioning yet but we are ready. I hope there are no heat domes and no bullshit and just a cool relaxing summer. No deaths would be nice too.