no accidents
Downstairs in what I call the Cozy Cave, also known as the room my family camps out in when we come to Indiana, there is a rectangular…
Downstairs, sitting in what I fondly call the Cozy Cave, also known as the room in which my family unit takes up residence when we come to Indiana, there is a rectangular window that faces south, looking out into the wooded area of the side yard. This year, a tall shoot of pokeweed has sprung up, with a stalk about two inches in diameter, big green leaves, hanging berry-like fruit, small flowers exploding at the ends.
For the past few days, a lady cardinal has been a frequent visitor to this window. As I enter the room, I can hear her repeated chirp, so close it makes me wonder if she’s actually in the room. I know that when I walk through the door she’ll likely vanish from view. She senses my body from feet away; wings fluttering against glass like she’s trying to get in. I see her fallow feathers beat hard, the bright spot of true red on her head, then she’s gone. It was like she was knocking. I think she just wants the pokeberries.
Here in this place I try to find ritual by getting up early and writing for a bit, pulling a card or two, getting outside no matter what. There are moments of true luxury. Watching a conversation that turns my heart inside out, uninterrupted and undivided. Having the space to trust the moment in which I can ask myself, “What is it right now?”
I am privileged. I am reminding myself. I am reminding my daughters.
Back to back are the birthdays of a dear friend, and my sister. I feel this is no accident. No accident that my dear friend is a twin and her twin sister’s name is Lauren, too. No accident that she has lifted me up like a sister and is the reason why I’m able to write these words, press publish and share them with you, into the ether/under the earth. No accident that my sister’s birth is my first memory. No accident that she takes care of me in ways I can’t repay her for, even though she is the younger of the two of us.
I celebrate them both. For reminding me of my privilege. To know them both, to keep them close. What good luck.