Megspot

Looking out the window the other morning, I spied a pretty little bird watching me. We shared a moment before I continued with the dishes and got ready for work. But then the next morning there he was again, spying on me from behind the same bush.

He was adorable and I felt honored to receive such attention from a wild creature.

Then this morning, I caught him spying again.

“Honey, come look at this – it’s the bird I told you about.”

My husband kept his head in the paper, lop-sidedly smiled and pretended not to hear.

“I mean it, come look.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“If I look, then it’s all over.”

“What is?”

“The magic. Your joy.”

“Huh?”

He took a deep breath.

“Okay. But I’m only telling you now before you get too attached.”

I nodded. “Okaaay.”

“Remember the visit to the hardware last month?”

I nodded again.

“And remember the plaster statuette of that bird you just had to have?”

I paused, blushing deeply at my mistake. How could I honestly have thought the plaster bird was alive?

But then the bird flew away. And that’s why I remain optimistic – because if a plaster bird can turn into a real bird, then maybe there’s hope for me yet.