A Senior Moment
Unpredictable. That's what March is in Michigan. Just yesterday I had reveled in the warmth of the fifty degree weather. Now, I was hefting a shovel-full of snow only to have the wind blow it back in my face. Frosted in the frigid white stuff, I grumbled. Then I heard it; birds chirping. The feathered friends were rooting for spring as much as I was. How could I not smile hearing their song?
Shortly, Mom shuffled into the shop. She lives on the next block so she strolls in daily. Every time she moseys around and searches for her favorite item, a small ceramic bird. It's an easy discovery for her as the shop is filled with robins, cardinals, chickadees, and shore birds.
Today was no different. She greeted me, cradling a meadowlark from a display. “Is this new?” she asked.
“No, we just moved it to a different spot,” I said, knowing we had been re-merchandising often with spring approaching.
“Well, it’s very lovely,” she said as she plunked the bird into my palm and wandered out the door, leaving me holding the critter.
Every visit she picks up a different bird and after every visit I try to remember where its mate is hiding in the shop. I don’t know who is more forgetful, Mom or me.