Fio went outside to kick the dregs of an aural migrain and spotted her little red wagon, the one she'd loaded up with rocks last week. Obviously. she had no choice but to unload them around the weak side of the drive near the front porch, so she set to doing so while Sonia Dog took a snooze on the concrete drieway near the garage.
"Husband's going to be surprised when he gets back home and sees what I've done," she thought, then remembered Husband wasn't coming home this time, that the only male in the house for yet another blessed week was Elder Son, who had driven down to Cedar Creek to visit with his brother for the afternoon.
As Fio walked toward the porch, having finished off the rocks, she noticed the dead bird, a cedar waxwing that Son had pointed out yesterday and was still drying out on top of the air conditioner unit so she maneuvered him onto a solid piece of bark and walked him through the house to for deposit in the soft comfort of the Kleenex-filled trash can. Hope he and Husband, who was a stalwart bird watcher, can find each other in their new dimension.
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