The local birds are chirping mightily despite the rain.
They’re enjoying the papayas I left for them to ripen on the tree. I’ve been doing this with the bananas too, after observing the merriment of the naturally fair marketplace, a frenetic and orderly distribution of fruit. In other parts of the neighborhood, guys are running out and shouting at these same birds, stomping and waving like apes, shooing them from banana bunches shortly after returning home from the store with milk and cheese and out of season delicacies from far away places.
So, like I said, the birds are chirping and I’ve got nothing to write about. It’s almost noon, I’m still full from my late Sunday morning breakfast of eggs, peppered and rock-salted vegetables, sautéed with some leftover rice and topped with shredded cheddar. I gaze out the window to figure out what to say next and I see two finches on a wire, one hopping three hops toward his partner, a fourth hop onto her back, a momentary tussle of feathers, a fifth hop off to her side, some finch snuggles and beak kisses to the neck, then onward to their next branch.
I press another cup of coffee from my French press and ponder what to do with my time. I’ve got a good woman, family, friends, and an ocean nearby. Despite some tedium and stress, my job is stable, presents new challenges often and is hopefully the stepping stone toward Where I’d Rather Be. The edges of this happiness tapestry are undoubtedly fraying, mostly due things that happen with age and to those we love. But, the road ahead is still longer, at least for now, than the road behind, and the past pavement is one I’m glad in many ways to have already traveled.
In short, I’m comfortable with me, and though not living in a constant state of ecstasy, I’ve got plenty of happy. There’s thousands of weeds in my yard, so I think I’ll take advantage of the clouded shade and soft soil to go pull a few. I know I can’t pull them all to rid my yard of weeds, but it’s something to do while listening to chirping birds.