My Grandmother and the Birdbath

When I was very young, my grandmother had a bird bath in her side yard.  It was nothing fancy.  A concrete base with a concrete basin on top, totaling maybe 3 feet in height.  The basin had to be refreshed with water daily with the garden hose.  How many people own a bird bath and actually keep it full of fresh water these days?  My grandmother’s was always full of fresh water.  I remember being so tickled watching the birds flittering their feathers in the water.  It was the funniest thing to me.  I would sit at the dining table, nestled by the window, watching the show.  She would name the birds - look, there’s a finch (the small one), and this black one is a starling.  Before or after their bath, they would go to the nearby bird feeder and help themselves to a meal of seeds.  Sometimes a squirrel would try to get a fill of seed and we would curse the squirrel but also marvel in its tenacity to get a meal.  There was nothing special going on between the bird bath and the bird feeder but I felt I had my own private view of a pretty special event.  

In fact, it was a special event.  Little did I know, I was living just one part of my story that was bound to be temporary.  Several years later, my grandmother died and the house was eventually sold.  I spent much of my childhood time with her and thought she would always be there.  Until she wasn’t.  And now I experience her through mere memories.  No one told me that’s how life worked.  It can feel a bit sobering and sad because it has happened time and again with people I love.  And yet here I am thinking of the joys of a bird taking a bath as I look for one more moment with a person I held so dear.  An unexpected gift of this has been that I now look at my loved ones now and recognize the time is precious.  I also now know that loss is inevitable.  How we cope is up to us.