Were I still
My grandmother had her surgery today. All the way over in Chicago, in a hospital, my favorite grandparent of all the ones I have had, is recovering from having a huge tumor removed from her back. Or, I assume so, because no one has called me about it.
My family is so disconnected from one another.
All day long, I had this nagging weight in my subconscious, pulling me down. I shivered, despite the 114-degree heat. I huddled under a blanket at my desk. I needed the comfort.
By mid-afternoon, I was determined to call my father. Then, I realized I don't know his cell phone number. I thought he might call me, leave a message... I'm sure he was too busy doing what he does best: being a nurse. Running the show in recovery. I pity the hospital staff.
I saw three hummingbirds today. One hovered over the car for a few feet as we were leaving our apartment complex this morning. During my morning break, I saw one land on a flowering plant and leisurely, systematically, eat from the salmon-colored buds until he was attacked by a second. I watched them chase each other through the air, zipping through the trees until both disappeared.
Were I still inclined to call myself a witch, I might be delighted in such an omen. Were I still a child of nature as I was, I would say that Grandma is going to be okay.
There's something to be said for having faith in a hummingbird.
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