“Did you see the birds?” she asked.
I followed the lines of her face. Her skin was pale and translucent, flaking off around her ears and under her chin. Where had I been while she’d gotten so old?
In the backyard, robins and sparrows hopped from the feeder to a small, wooden birdhouse my father built years ago, to the birdbath. A few squirrels dug around in the grass at the base of the feeder, nibbling on dropped seeds. A pair of birds separated from the group and flew upward, dancing together.
“They’re in love,” she said, pointing. “That’s what lovers do.”
Read More...