Nestbuilding Choices

Updated: Feb 25

This illustration comes from the book "The Song of the Cardinal" by Gene Stratton Porter. Copyright 1903, 1915. I picked this book up at a small store that was going out of business in Apalachicola, Florida. It spoke to me then, and still does today. I will always prefer a book in my hands to a digital book.

Today's thoughts...

A calm familiar voice fights its way through

a clashing and thrashing of wind distracted branches.

Nest building experiences left barren with time lived moments

speak of forgetfulness and yet remembered somehow.

Out of the life influenced wind currents,

the pushing and pulling of heart breezes sometimes occur.

Broken into tones of courage and strength with each nature cushioned step,

The bark coverings embrace a message to not forget.

Eighteen years ago, I made my trek across Kansas, from the southwest corner of Kansas to the northeast corner. Finding a home was difficult and took several months. I remember apologizing to the realtor who was helping me for "leaving no stone unturned". She was such a kind woman, she simply said, "You'll know you're home, when you get there." When I walked into the house that I am still living in still today, I knew she was right. I found my home, my nest.

I soon met Katherine and her dog Sunshine who lived across the road from me. In an old journal entry, I wrote about how she and I each sat outside on our own steps. I found comfort in her wave and acknowledgement that I was there. We talked in the middle of the road from time to time, walked occasionally together and left notes, cards or brownies for each other. She would give me a thumbs up as I practiced the guitar. We knew enough about each other to know that we each were on a journey of "healing". Me from being divorced and she from losing her husband and much more. I didn't know how much more until she was no longer here.

The anniversary of Katherine's death is coming up in February. It's been 12 years since I walked into her house and saw her work badge, her lunch bag and her mail laying on her table right where she laid them her last afternoon. She and her dog, Sunshine were tragically killed in a car accident, within 45 minutes of our last conversation.

Katherine's story calls to me from time to time. Today is one of those times. It's one waiting to be written. She was such a brave and courageous woman. Our lives crossed and became parallel to one another. As I took care of her home, her yard and her things for almost a year before an auctioneer stepped in, I got to know Katherine even better. Perhaps the time is here to write her story. I've tried numerous times, but my own emotions, paralleled with hers, keeps me from being able to continue. We'll see.

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