Tuesday, April 26, 2011


Slept with fresh air gently blowing in through the sliding door all night. Why does that make you sleep better? No heat on. I am so happy not to hear the constant whir of the compressor outside of the house. One less thing to constantly worry about. No more ice. No more snow. Clear, dry roads. And now, a full return of the time of year that makes living here, so worth it. The trees are fluffy green with baby leaves about to emerge. Flowers. Birds. And ants. Ants all over my house. I don't like that part very much. The girls wanted to catch them and free them outside. I tried explaining they would just return, and I could see they looked disappointed when they realized our plan was to eradicate as many as we could.

Payday is Friday, and we are down to not much money, so I will be hanging around the house for the next few days. I have a lot of work to do here anyhow, so it's OK. The girls are going back to school today, after their Easter break. I lost all patience with them yesterday. By day 5, I am usually done. I am usually done by Day 3. Yesterday was tough. I kept wishing for bed time. When it finally came, after watching a family movie of Frankenstein, Olivia was spooked, and crawled into bed around 11:00. I don't remember the last time I went to bed, and woke up in the morning, uninterrupted.

Oddly, after staring at the Hummingbird camera during my morning coffee, I saw the first hummingbird of the season, last evening. We were watching the movie, and I heard what sounded like a giant bee. I saw something flash by the sliding glass doors. A second later, it reappeared. A small hummingbird, hovering, looking in at us. And then it quickly darted away. I practically shouted. Hummingbird! David didn't believe me. It is about a week too early.

Before we moved here, I had never seen a hummingbird. Only in print, and on television. We had Olivia in May, and moved here, when she was just under 2 months old. David started working, my parents helped us move in, and returned home, and I was alone. A new baby. A new home. A new state. I was miserable. Overwhelmed. I never felt so alone. I had worked full time until my very first labor pains. To suddenly be home, everyday, in such a new place, with a newborn, was surreal. I was depressed. I had no one to talk to. When Olivia slept, I used to just sit, and look out the window, and watch cars pass, and think, will I ever have a friend here. Will this place ever be familiar to me. Will it ever feel like home. It even smelled different. No salty air. It smelled like the woods. And moss. And rotting leaves. And deer musk. And skunk. I felt like we moved to Mars.

I was nursing Olivia on the couch. I had just gotten her to sleep. I sat and was staring out the window. Suddenly, there it was. I thought it was a flying mouse at first. I remember thinking, why is there a mouse, flying? And then I realized it was a hummingbird. You would have thought I had seen a fairy. That is what it felt like. It was magical. I was really happy. The first hummingbird, I had ever laid eyes on. It lived up to my expectations. In fact, it was better. I couldn't believe how small, and sleek, and beautiful the tiny creature actually was. A bird, so fragile, and graceful. It was beyond description.

Each of my girl's has been born in May. When I came home from the hospital with Charlotte, the hummingbird returned. The same thing with Molly. It has meant something more to me each Spring, to glimpse the first one of the season. It made this place that was at first, so foreign, and strange to me, begin to feel like a home. And it is our home. The only home my girls have ever known. The place where David and I became so much more than we could have dreamed.

The hummingbird is a week early this year. Maybe it blew in from all the storms. Maybe it is on it's way further up north, and was just passing through. Whatever the case may be, it signifies something so much more for me. Even the Spring smells remind me of a time, that feels like so long ago, but when I look at Olivia's adult teeth growing in, it really wasn't. I have changed so much. We all have. And yet, each Spring, the birds return. Like clockwork. And each Spring, they surprise me.

Everything about this life surprises me. This place that felt like another planet still pulls out a new trick or two. I never thought it would feel like home.

But it is.

1 comment:

  1. I love this post.

    There is something to be said about sleeping with the windows open and waking to the sounds of the birds.