Cardinals

Ever have one of those mornings when you just don't want to get out of bed? You wake before the alarm goes off and your body refuses to move. All the things you have to do in the upcoming hours keep running through your head and you turn over and try to ignore the clock counting down to the moment you know you absolutely have to get up.

It didn't help that the sky was gray and rain was coming down cold and unforgiving. It didn't help that I had to drive to one of the regional libraries for a big meeting for which I was doing a lot of presenting, and I didn't feel like I had covered all the bases thoroughly. It didn't help that my allergies are in full force and my throat is sore. It didn't help that my side was hurting most of the night and I had to keep getting up to refill the hot water bottle to soothe it enough to sleep (the doctor thinks its referred pain from where the small mass is growing). I pulled the covers over my head and debated what would happen if I just didn't go.

But alas! There is no help for it. I drag myself to the edge of the bed and twirl open the blind. I blink, my eyes trying to adjust to the dim light. Just outside my bedroom window is a mid-sized flowering tree, leaves and white blossoms fluttering in the rain. It seems like those leaves are fluttering harder than the rain warrants. I look closer. There, flying back and forth, are two birds. One is small and brownish, the other a bit bigger and soft red. Cardinals. Hopping from branch to branch. They seem to be playing some sort of game, chasing each other, hiding behind the trunk, brushing against the white petals. They fluff their feathers and shake off the rain and call to each other. I wonder what they are doing.

Do birds get cancer? I have seen deer with cancer growths. They eat in garbage dumps. People food. Probably explains it. If birds got cancer, would they know it? Do they have some berry or bitter leaf they eat to prevent cancer? Is anybody else asking these questions? I envy them their reality, so different from my own.

I watch fascinated for much longer than I should have. Finally I shake myself and call Drew. We step through the usual morning drill. I pick pants that are big and baggy so they won't irritate my aching side. Drew toasts a bagel. I pack my bag. Drew makes his lunch. I go back to the window to see if the birds are still there so I can show Drew. But they are gone. The tree is just standing there like trees do, fluttering its leaves in the rain. The pair has flown off to someone else's tree to help them get over the morning blahs.