In an earlier post, “This Joint is Jumpin’,” I told readers I would try to get a picture of the birdfeeder in my backyard when it’s busy. This is quite the challenge because if I’m outside, the birds hide. As soon as I come back into the house, feeding resumes. So, I managed to get a picture of four birds. There may be a couple on the other side but not showing. We also have a few hummingbirds flitting around calendula in the deck flower pots as well as the two nectar-filled, handblown feeders. My husband and I each have a hummingbird feeder. His is visible out the kitchen window and mine is placed where I have a great view out my slider. The hummingbirds don’t seem bothered by my presence. Birds! Promise I won’t be posting incredibly similar photos of birds going forward! Do you watch birds? Do you have a birdfeeder? What kinds of birds visit your space?
I have a feeling I’ve never had before. I’ve been apprehensive about my German mother-in-law moving into our home, but this morning I’m in serious tumult. (Not to insult all Germans, but she is very German.) My husband and I discussed my bird center. I’d love to sit outside to watch and listen, but as soon as I go outside, the birds scatter. Upon my return indoors, it gets busy again. My husband made the comment, “Think my mom’s going to be outside all the time.”
FREEZE, hyperventilation, and tears.
I know from history, she would like to be outside as much as possible. I was picturing her kind of floating over our yard, not wanting to grasp the solid vision of her on my deck, not far outside my slider. Now, with my husband’s offhand comment, I’m roiling. I LOVE my birds! I’m tickled at the popular response we’ve had. They bring me joy and not many things do. If I lose mu sweet guests, I will feel like MIL is collapsing my world. This is bigger than her voice reminding me of nails on a chalkboard. I have pressure in my throat, chest, and abdomen. Writing this has tears springing forth.
Here I am, opening my home and it could cost me my mental health, worse than typical. I don’t know what to do. She will be here one week from tomorrow. It’s real. My husband’s hopeful refrain is, “I don’t think it’s going to be as bad as you’re thinking.” That was before we realized she may kill my bird joy. Now, he’s saying we’ll work it out. Not sure how this tornado inside me will effect my writing. I’ll keep you posted. Going to have to come up with a new code word and leave “rambling” for the pre-move in months. Any ideas?
My head is muddled, so please forgive typos.