Bird in the Yard

I looked out the car window and noticed the familiar surroundings of our home but wasn’t sure how we got there. Still in the driver’s seat, I had somehow mustered up the wherewithal to drive the two short blocks back home. I knew it was time to get out of the car but found myself locked in momentary paralysis. My brain was telling my body to move, but it would not listen. Except for my eyes, I had completely frozen. I began scanning the front yard for something to help wake me from my comatose state. My focus settled upon the distinctively shaped, puzzle-like markings on the trunk of a Chinese elm tree.

This is your yard.

That is your tree.

There is a bird on its branch.

We had lived in this house for eleven years. Purchased with a bright and cheery pink painted exterior and later remodeled to distressed olive-green wood, it now seemed oddly distorted and somewhat colorless. The bird, however, was very vibrant with a brilliant plume of iridescent blue tail feathers. Something about him caught my eye, as he seemed out of place from the typical little black birds and crows that inhabited our yard. He appeared almost fake, sitting there perfectly still, with long slender claws holding on to a wayward branch. For a moment, neither one of us moved. Then, with grace and ease, he released his grip and flew away. I looked down to find my hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel, my vice-gripped fingers mimicking the bird’s grasping claws on the branch. I, however, could not release. My unnatural and unrelenting grip of the steering wheel stirred forgotten memories about another bird by the name of Sparky. Sparky was my college roommate’s wacky but lovable baby blue parakeet. I would delight in hearing his joyful chirping songs throughout the apartment but often found his behavior a bit off. When he became quiet, I knew. I would peek into his cage and find him on his perch, in the grip of his own unnatural lockdown, hanging completely upside down. Unwilling to let go, he would hang there, quiet and motionless for unusual stretches of time. I would gently try to pry his claws open and help him out, attempting to turn him right side up. Rarely would he budge, eventually he would fall on his own and lay dazed on top of the most recent Los Angeles Times article that lined the bottom of his cage. I never understood Sparky. Until today. Suddenly, I could totally relate.

Lost in the moment, it took me a minute to feel a hand—similar to when mine would enter Sparky’s cage trying to nudge him off the perch and coax him into safety—shaking my shoulder. Both of mine were still locked to the steering wheel while my world turned completely upside down. The gentle touch brought me out of my temporary distraction and back to the unpleasant reality.

“It’s OK, honey . . .” Joe’s soothing voice was telling me exactly what I needed to hear. “We’ll get through this.”

Shock was playing a wicked game with my mind. My thoughts had gone instantly inward, thinking only of myself. It took me a moment to re-register where I was and why we weren’t watching a superhero movie. I looked again to Joe, searching for answers. While the color had drained from his face and his eyes showed signs of devastating shock, he remained surprisingly calm.

Wait? Why is he comforting me?

I tried to grasp hold of my thoughts and emotions. I should be the superhero here. I should be doing the comforting . . . but I could not. I couldn’t begin to fathom what could be going on inside his head. I wasn’t the one just given a cancer diagnosis. Nor was I the one in physical pain. Our roles had suddenly reversed: Joe was now the stoic one and I was consumed by my emotions. I desperately wanted to take control of the situation but could not rein in any strength after this monumental shock to my system.

Come on, Lori. Say something comforting. Say anything!

Nothing. The speech-generating part of my brain was rendered useless.

What do I say? What can I possibly say?

“Come on, honey,” Joe said, softly breaking the silence. “Let’s go inside and call Danny.”

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