Love Like That

On the eve of Mother’s Day, I was standing at the kitchen sink finishing the dinner dishes.  (Appropriate?)  I looked out the window, and in the setting sun I could just barely see a small grayish blob on the grass.  When I realized it was a baby bird, I called for Jen.  We immediately went into nurture mode.  “Should we move it to the backyard where it will be safer?”  “Will it need water?”  “Maybe we shouldn’t move it.  We don’t want to startle it.”  “Yeah, and the mom might not find it.”

We brought out a jar lid filled with water.  (Initially, we’d grabbed a small dish, but Jen was afraid the wee bird wouldn’t be big enough to scale the side of the dish.)  We didn’t approach too closely.   We could be heard “oohing” and “ahhing” at the sweet little blob of feathers with the seemingly too large beak.

We went back inside so as not to scare it.  We stood side by side at the kitchen window and kept vigil.  I worried (because that’s what moms do) about neighbor cats and squirrels.  (Would squirrels go after our wee blob?  When did it become ours?)

Just then, we saw a robin (either a mom or a dad, as both feed their babies, and I can’t tell the difference in robins) swoop in and feed the baby.  Jen and I hugged each other and exclaimed at the sweetness.    We stood and watched as it got darker and harder to see.  The baby wobbled across the grass and approached the fence.  Would the mom/dad be able to find it?  Clearly, it had been in a hurry to leave the nest (reminds me of someone I know), as it only seemed able to wobble, not hop or fly.

We were relieved to see that wherever that baby went, the mom or dad could find it and feed it.

The baby was still snuggled next to the fence post when we turned off the lights and went to bed.

 

(The day before, Jen and I had delivered a batch of groceries to the house where Will is living.  There are six of them – young, working, testing their wings, and struggling between paychecks.  They live on mac and cheese and grilled cheese sandwiches and too much coffee.  My momness was in overdrive, and I needed to fill their fridge with other options.)

 

This morning, I found the baby had made it to the other side of the driveway.  I could follow the trail of droppings and see the gray blob from the kitchen window.  I went out, in robe and bare feet (which reminded me that back in February, barefoot season seemed so very far away), to see if it was alive and well.  It’s a wonder that those little hearts can beat so fast.  That tiny thing breathes so quickly.  It was fine.  My mom brain went to, “Oh, you must have been cold last night?  Weren’t you afraid?  Have you eaten?”

I went back inside to assume my position at the sink.  Jen still sleeps and doesn’t know, yet, that the baby is fine.  I can’t wait to tell her.  Just then, I saw one of the parents bring breakfast.

 

Thank you to all who love like that.  You make the world go ’round.