“And you came here at 5:55 am. I’m glad you have somewhere to put your feelings, even if it’s just this.”
The parking garage is cold when I hug my cousin’s warm body. I don’t tear up because I know I will talk to her again soon. I will plan a trip to see her in the summer, and I will feel like an undiscovered, beautiful comedian once again. I will say, “Would you like me to put some hot water on?”
At work I type up a report and am reminded that I’m still not used to longer nails against a keyboard. I’m frustrated by them when I pick grass seeds off Gigi’s silky coat, there’s no easiness, less maternal, more stiff.
“You’re the one who reaches out, who holds things together, reads the room, adjusts the temperature, performs engagement, absorbs the fallout. Always.” I look at Brandy and I feel my chest fill up with something that needs to be dispelled.
I write down her words. “That feeling of needing to escape whatever present situation you’re in? It’s not just distraction. It’s your nervous system chronically under or overwhelmed, never quite landing anywhere that feels right.”
Four crows on the deck, one bigger than the rest. I watch his feet stomp gently across the peanuts, stripped sunflower seeds and white proso millet. I think about how the other birds feel, eating the stomped-on feed.
I sit at my vanity with my front-facing camera and record a video for the fifth, maybe sixth time. “No, no trabajé el sábado pasado. Nunca trabajo los sábados.”
I remember my niece asking: “Are you in high school?” The burning sensation of it. Why.
From the overly warm second floor I hear family come inside and coo at Gigi with affection. “I’ll be right down!” I am shirtless and unprepared.
Outside the crows return while we remember Chris. I see his gauges. I hear his voice. I see his beautiful wife and his beautiful children. I cry, but I want to leave space for the grief of others.
“Did you name the crows?” “They are bullies, I’ve heard.” “No, no,” I say, “my cousin told me they will eventually bring gifts in exchange for our friendship.”
This morning I go to add more peanuts to the mix and the largest crow stays and stares at me with zero trepidation. “Hello, I got you. You’re going to be happy soon.”
I am uncomfortable while everyone sits on my sofa. I feel rude for noticing, so I lay on the marmoleum and rest my head in Gigi’s frito-smelling bed, next to her sleepy body.
I watch my friend stare at her phone in complete shock and anguish, and my body wants to absorb it for her. Only I know I can’t, that it is an emotion worth having and leaving alone, because it provides its own comfort: that Chris was loved. So deeply.
The things that were sad at 5:55 am are no longer relevant.
The other birds and squirrels will come at different intervals than the crows.
We will be quiet and soothed.
Thoughts?