by underswansea


It’s the weekend we wait for. Lisa and I had breakfast in the mountains. We looked for birds. A Townsend’s Solitaire watched from a tree tip, perhaps waiting for us to drop a bite. I still can’t eat my entire sandwich, from so many years of giving the last bites to my good friends. Lisa noticed and teared up. She misses them too.

I stated, we’re turning into an old couple, looking for birds, snapping a few photos, eating soft sandwiches and commenting on the weather. Lisa said, she was thinking the same thing. It’s a damn good thing there’s no traffic where we go or we’d be holding it up!

Later, we walked around visiting the shops downtown. It was nice to see so many people happily doing their Christmas shopping. I ran my fingers through my white beard and said, if I sit in a corner do you think young women might sit on my knee, thinking I’m Santa Claus. Lisa shot me a look.

Like I said, we’re getting older not everything has to be verbalized.

In the afternoon I went to visit Deb. We did what we usually do; shot the shit and laughed at even the things that weren’t funny. It’s pretty good when you can do that with anybody. If you’re brother and sister it’s extra special. Before leaving we noticed a few birds in the trees. We couldn’t tell what they were through the window. Once outside, we saw the red on their crown, and though we both squinted in the last of the afternoon light, we recognized them as Cassin’s Finches.

It’s dark. Low clouds have rolled in. I can tell because I can’t see the moon. It okay though. Tonight I’m going to spend inside with Lisa looking into the fire. I have some cracklin’ pine that needs burned. After all we’re getting old.