I’ve trained a bluejay, out of my own delight, to perch like a cat outside my door.
He doesn’t want me to sprout wings and fly. He can fly.
He doesn’t want a song and dance. He has a song.
He has a dance.
He wants a peanut. That, I can do.
For Jena Strong.
A peanut I can do.
And because Peanut is also Pearl’s nickname, now our bluejay will remind me that my kids don’t need a song and dance, either. They already have wings, and a song, and a dance. Thank you, Maezen. I love you.
Comment by Jena — February 2, 2012 @ 1:22 pm
A simple truth.
Comment by Bobbi — February 3, 2012 @ 1:38 am
In the less-is-more department, you have hit it out of the park. Don’t even know why I love this so much. I just do.
Comment by Katrina Kenison — February 3, 2012 @ 3:50 am
Someone dear to me lost his job in a very traumatic way. He doesn’t live close enough for visits, so we call and skype. At first I talked a lot about the outrage and the injustice. I interrupted his story to ask questions. And then, finally, I listened. He drew his own conclusions, he reflected, came to his own insights. I didn’t have to do anything but listen? Really? The peanut was a tiny thing, which I found buried under all of my own baggage.
Comment by Dawn — February 3, 2012 @ 7:50 am
And if the creature outside my door does not know what it wants, whatever shall I give?
Comment by MJ — February 4, 2012 @ 11:28 am
Attention. Then you’ll know.
Comment by Karen Maezen Miller — February 4, 2012 @ 11:48 am