July 6, 2010
This day has started with golden sunshine streaming through my bedroom window as Gus heads off to work. Perhaps today we will know more. Perhaps today the waiting will end.
I get up and start my morning routine of feeding pets and counting birds. I smile as I see a fat collared lizard doing its warming push-ups on the block wall in the bright morning sun. I have plenty of things to do today while I wait. As usual, there are bird feeders to fill and plants to water. I watch a small rabbit nibble on the seed block. I count the birds out my windows. I look at each species differently now and realize that these will not be my backyard birds anymore if we move away. There are no Canyon Towhees in New England. I will not see Pyrrhuloxias or Cactus Wrens there. I do not take these birds for granted here, but I have relaxed with them and count on seeing them everyday. If one species does not show up I notice. I have become accustom to the rhythms of their life here in Sycamore Canyon. It has become my rhythm. Will I carry this song with me if we leave?
In the afternoon I visit my friend, Sherri. Her yard looks out over a larger green space than mine. The mesquite trees and Palo Verdes create a dense light green canopy over the desert. I can see a few birds here and there as they fly over the wash and across this ribbon of green. A male cardinal pops up to sing from a branch, its color a bright red spot in all that feathery green. The desert is full of doves, both mourning and white-winged. In the heat of the day they seek refuge in shade and do not move about so much. They, too, are waiting, but they wait for rain.
This day passes slowly. The heat drives me inside. There is no word today. All I can do is wait.
Chapter 3 of The Good-bye Chronicles