Haven't written since May. In the blink of an eye since school got out, then it was Summer School, and now we are already into the 2nd Six Weeks. Time is slippery: going oh so fast while simultaneously crawling by. It has been 604 days since Liberty moved on.
The oddest thing happened two weekends ago. I came home from Saturday School and saw that the floors on the way up the third floor were gross. The floor was covered in powdery white ickiness all the way up to my apartment. There was a slight smell as well. But the worst was the sounds: like something banding against the walls and something picking at the walls and ceilings. Finally found the culprit: a juvenile Grackle. This little guy was lost in our stairwell and couldn't get out through the skylights. I tried to help this confused little bird out of the building using tapping the broom on the rails. This bird was flapping and flapping to try to get out. Over and over I tried. After thirty minutes I had to get back to Caprock, so I left for about an hour and a half.
That bird was still struggling when I made it back home. This time I put some water out and changed my clothes then back at it.
That bird was yelling at me for sure. How none of my eight neighbors didn't come out. The bedraggled birdy was hurting and not moving very well. He was more chaotic, and scared. After more practice and over an hour longer, with my Swiffer and my dustpan I started saying out loud, "You are not going to die today." over and over. At some point I was talking to Libby , because I needed her to help me get that bird out safely. I never touched that bird with any of my cleaning instruments until he finally followed the little noises I was making, and I pushed him out of the door. https://music.apple.com/us/album/ill-fly-away/269440847?i=269441201
The little guy flew away immediately. I checked over and over throughout that afternoon and evening and I never saw him again. I heard it squawking across the courtyard at my apartment.
Years ago, when the girls were under ten Libby brought in a little bird that had fallen out of the nest. She had brought all sorts of critters which Libby would place somewhere on her sister's bed. Whatever Libby was trying to rescue usually got left of something of Mariah's stuff. Oh, the squeaking and squawking by all!
Trying to think through this earlier memory and the great bird experience, I found this article. "Many cultures believe birds bring important messages, so a bird flying into your home may be trying to tell you something. Unfortunately, it won’t necessarily be obvious whether the news is good or bad – we’ll leave that up to your interpretation.
If a bird flies into your house and appears restless, but doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get out, it could mean the presence of a spirit. Again, this isn’t always a bad thing, as the spirit might not be of the evil kind, but may simply be trying to guide you through a difficult time in your life."
Libby's little birdie did not make it very long. They rarely do. I hope that my little bird lived on telling the story of the crazy apartment lady promising and arguing that it WILL live.
But my little birdie, my little liberty did not make it through her illness, but she damn sure fought against every single step as her illness fought back. I believe we have had ongoing interactions since Liberty's body quit. I do. I am grateful for every feather I see. She is in every sunrise and sunset. She dances to her own weird music coming clearly through the wind. Libby made us warriors in everyday life. Her stubbornness shines through Marigh and her perseverance. All of this and the date is 605 since she left this life. Here's to many more.
Time is slippery and I am blessed by every memory that comes through me.
