I Found A Pebble on My Deck

When there is no one else to talk do, a small rock will do.

The sun had teased me from our bed. I slipped on sandals, and with my wife still gently snoring, stepped out of our trailer into a Sunday morning.

It is too early for most of my neighbors to be up and about. They are still warm in their beds, their minds in mist, not yet ready to begin drifting slowly toward this morning’s sunlight. They are missing something, this day. The sky is painfully clear, the air is sweet, the bird song is welcoming me to join the world, be part of it, to live.

I have joined. I am on our deck, mostly naked save for my sandals, and every inch of my body is soaking up this delicious day, drawing it in, making it mine. You cannot draw a day into yourself with many clothes in the way. You cannot stretch your arms to the sky and summon the day to envelop you. I reach into the sky, straining upward, eyes closed for just a moment to help me find the center, the heart of this day, and I find it, and it flows all over my body. I am not a religious man, no gods chatter in my private world, yet this is a religious experience, alone on my deck at the opening of a camping Sunday morning.

But I am not alone. I suddenly have a companion, a small bird that has landed on the railing of our deck. She moves with little starts, like an ancient silent movie. Two steps toward the large human. Stop. Cock the head. Has the human moved? Why is it so pink?