On June 20th last year a little baby was born in the upstairs room of our house. We had only gotten one ultrasound during the pregnancy, and this at the very end, so the baby's gender remained a mystery to us until he popped out to greet us that Saturday evening. Around us, everyone was chomping at the bit to find out. Girl or Boy? Boy or Girl? For heaven sakes, I don't know which Precious Moments figurine to buy!!!!!
So that evening, after Harvey was fed and cleaned and dinner was served to the midwives, someone ran to our local party store and picked up a visual aid that would telegraph the news to all the neighborhood.
For the record, mylar balloons don't pop. They slowly deflate, floating lower and lower towards the ground into which they'll never biodegrade. Tied to a chair on our porch, our little balloon tugged at its string at first, jollily bouncing back and forth like the baby boy it represented. After a week or so it drooped a little. Another week and the knot tethering it in place was higher than the balloon itself. A few weeks later it had sunk to ground level. It stayed there several more months until we needed to move the chair. After that the balloon still stayed on the porch, dangerously approaching the category of trash. Out of sentimentality or laziness I couldn't find the strength to throw it away. Then I lost track. It blew away from view in the windy storms, and I thought I was spared a tough moment in mothering. Then Wednesday evening I heard Dan exclaim from the kitchen window:
"Look! That bird is dragging Harvey's balloon across the yard!"
It's true. A robin had taken hold of the bright blue string, and she wanted it for her nest. Unfortunately it was tied to an unwieldy piece of trash.
I ran out back with a pair of scissors in hand and separated the precious ribbon from mylar. I left both outside because I didn't want to scare the bird anymore, and really, the act with the scissors was as much as I could handle for the day. Then on Thursday morning as I walked down the front steps with Harvey and Rascal, I was almost decapitated by a low-flying bird. She bobbed from one bush to another with a brightly colored object in her mouth.
You can guess what it was.
Isn't this crazy world amazing? In our little bush there will soon be eggs, and then little baby birds. Spring follows spring. Life begets death (of balloons at least) and then begets life again.
My baby will soon be 1 year old, and not so much of a baby any more. Some day there will be another baby. I've just started ovulating again, you see, and I'm rather emotional about nests and ribbons and bitty baby birds.
Happy Spring Everyone!