Our keets were born today...there are 15 of them.
We had them in a box on the bar when Grafton was holding one, it scared him and he dropped it. It squirmed a bit and died in my hand. I started crying... totally out of control crying. I gathered the remaining keets and placed them in the back room and closed the door.
As in all our lives we face both birth and death. I was also digesting the news that a friend of 20 years had been lost to cancer. She was the mother of a college classmate and a former coworker. Have you ever known a person who inspired you by just being? I had called her last week. We talked about her illness, how she wanted to journey to her home country, England, and her son, my former classmate, coworker and friend for two decades. The conversation was our last, but her words then and to me over the years, her almost natural instinct to love and understand others in a free and light hearted style, will be with me forever.
The news was hung in my throat. I walked over to the keets and picked up a solid white one. “You will be called Mrs. W”...the divine Mrs. W after my friend. I later shared the naming with my friend's son. I told him this may sound silly, but it just felt right. He replied, “She loved animals and would laugh that you did that.”
I woke this morning to the sound of the keets chirping away. Grafton and Gilliland were in the kitchen again holding the keets and talking to them. The sound of little voices. Living. Breathing. Life if short. I know we hear that, we say it, and we are too often reminded of it.