the wild bird pass-through

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I stopped to put the mail in one of the boxes on my route yesterday and something flew out of the box and into the car.

It kind of scared me.

I guess that in truth, it kind of startled me.

I wasn’t scared, just surprised.

They say that in a lonely mail jeep, no one can hear you squeal.

I’m glad that I didn’t cry out.

I wasn’t scared.

Actually, what happened was that the bird who’d built a nest in the compartment under where I put the mail in the mailbox must have been as startled as I was….because it flew through my open window as I went to put the letters in the box…and before it even registered what had happened, flew out the open window on the other side of the Jeep.

That was a coordinated bird.

It was only after a quick moment that I realized that it had been a bird at all.

It was just something that passed through my life that went by so fast that except for the wind of the beating wings I wouldn’t have noticed.

That’s what life is like out on the road, though…one exciting escapade after another.

not.

It’s usually pretty routine.

My kids grow up fast.

Not crazy “we better get them to a growth specialist” fast….just normal kid fast.

They’re kind of like that bird flying through my windows….doing what they can to make it to the other side….like we all do….and doing it so fast that I miss most of it except the feeling that the breeze leaves behind in their wake.

I don’t think that a person can really pay close enough attention to take it all in.

We can’t handle paying attention to our own lives.

We don’t notice things like we probably should.

Sparrow has a few teeth now and is starting to eat some solid food.

Jenny has a little yellow “food mill” that she grinds stuff up in (good, edible stuff) to feed to the baby.

Bananas…maybe a sweet potato….lots of stuff.

Rice cereal….

Of course, this solid food turns “potty time” (in Sparrow’s diaper) into a different sort of experience.

Same, really….but a little more substantial than it was before.

That’s just part of growing up.

It’s hard to believe that we all did that when we were little.

Like the book says, though….everybody poops.

We all pooped and, hopefully, will continue to do so.

Now we can feign sophistication and keep all our toiletries somewhat private, though.

Maybe the best we can do in the “noticing” department is to be aware that “something happened”….that the breeze we felt on our arm or cheek must have been a bird passing by….or a child growing up.

I didn’t even see that bird fly through.

I sure didn’t get a chance to hold it in my hand…..

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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