December 28, 2024

A great blue heron was in the yard when I went out to make coffee. 

Damp, warm day, like a day of spring. I meant to clean up the garden a little, but didn’t. Feeling sad at receiving no presents at Christmas. Did I expect any? No, but–  I gave some, and not only to L’s grandkids, but silly ones to other people, so they’d know I was thinking of them. Caught myself looking furtively on the porch each time I opened the front door. Maybe the return of Sweetboi was meant to be my gift, my compensation for no human presents. Too foolish to mention to any company.  Vacancies not filled in youth do not disappear with age; they just creep into the attic to be contemplated at unexpected times.