Somewhere in a box tucked in a recessed corner of the things I saved that I have not yet dealt with, one of Mom’s hummingbird ornaments rests in a padded wad of tissue paper, its tag still attached to the hanging string. She always loved birds – especially hawks and hummingbirds – which are as different as she and Dad were, this odd combination of meek and majestic. And just as oddly, she was the majestic one. She was the hummingbird.
Today, we head south to get the remaining things out of the house so that it can go on the market. And while I’m there, I’ll be watching for hummingbirds and hawks. They tend to appear now and then at the least expected times.
Hummingbird
you : Mom’s favorite
she watched you hover, dart, sip
here, then gone – just like her…
Common Threads 