Day 36 (Or: The Baby Died In The Night)

Oh.  Oh oh oh.  My poor aching heart.  I am sitting in what is usually my comfy chair (molded to fit my butt, high embracing arms, a plethora of pleasing pillows), wrapped in what is generally known as the "best blanket in the house" (big, old, fluffy, heavy - the boy and I are frequently found to be wrestling over it), neither of these giving me any comfort, waiting sadly for my son to come home so I can break the news that our little peepish baby birdie adoptee died in the night of unknown and mysterious causes.  Sniffle. 

I find it odd that my journey of One Thousand Days brings me from baby bunny to baby bird.  And that both had to die to get me to write anything.  Odd in a universe nudging sort of a way, as if some heavenly and all knowing entity were saying: "Write, you lunatic, or woe be it to all the baby animals!"  Well, frankly, although I AM posting today, and it HAS been at least three months since I've posted, and it SHOULD be an occasion of moment, it's really just a tear-filled, rainy day in August with the bittersweet hint of Fall and change in the air.

Day 36 of One Thousand Days I will bury the baby bird, find the strength to comfort the baby boy, vacuum my bedroom and eat copious amounts of chocolate.  R.I.P Filbert Leckenby.  Poo on day 36.