Music to my Ears

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

When Shelly thought about it, she realized the real mistake was agreeing to keep the secret in the first place. That is where it all started, with that stupid secret. Ever since she heard it, that was all she could think of. If anyone else knew… but they would still find out, there was no way they wouldn’t find out, unless…

Shelly walked into the living room, saw Maddy, and immediately turned and walked out. Shelly had been avoiding everyone all day, she was afraid of being cornered, of being questioned. How much did they know? It was too horrible to contemplate, she ran back up the stairs to her room, where she was safe.

She hid in her room the rest of the day, trying to keep herself busy, but she couldn’t avoid family dinner. She picked at her vegetable beef soup, not because she was nervous, more because she didn’t really like vegetable beef soup. The fresh baked bread was good though, and she downed three slices, dripping with butter.  This was why vegetable beef soup was her favorite dinner, even though she hated vegetable beef soup. She was just savoring her last slice of bread, when she suddenly remembered, the secret. She put the last bite of bread down on her plate. She suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore.

It was then Shelly noticed her dad had left the table, she was about to ask her mom where he had gone when he reappeared, holding a pink cake box. I large lump formed in Shelly’s throat, and no matter how hard she swallowed, it would not go away. Then her dad started to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” he bellowed, taking one step with each line, like he was walking down the aisle at a wedding ceremony, “happy birthday dear Maddy, happy birthday to you.”

He finished the song and set the box on the table. “Even though your birthday was yesterday, I think even leftover cake deserves a song,” he said with a big dad grin.

He was about to open the lid when Shelly cried out “wait, I have a secret!” Everyone turned to look at her. “Well, it’s not really my secret,” she stuttered, suddenly shy, “its Eddy’s secret, he made me promise I wouldn’t tell!”

“Eddy’s secret?” Shelly’s mom was looking at her with one eyebrow arched.

At that moment Eddy walked into the room, and a shower of pink vomit erupted into a puddle on the floor.

“Oh no, my cake!” Maddy cried out, as she stood from her chair and flung open the pink box to reveal nothing more than a few stale crumbs and some sad greasy streaky remnants of pink frosting.

“I’m sorry, Eddy ate it this morning and made me promise I wouldn’t tell!” Shelly screamed, as she ran back up the stairs to her bedroom, with the dog following closely behind.

 

A Bird in the Hand

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

The worst thing about mornings was the fact they were so darn early, and she was so not a morning person. The good thing about not being a morning person is it was easy to trick herself into getting up and doing things, as long as she set the alarm early enough, the grumpy part of her wouldn’t be awake yet to protest.

The sun was just rising at her back as her feet pounded the gravel to the rhythm of her breath. She didn’t like to admit it, but she loved these morning runs. It was how she meditated on the day to come.

There weren’t many of the regulars out on the trail this morning, probably because of the rain that passed through the night before, but it was kind of nice to have the path all to herself. Just her thoughts swirling in the lapping waters of the Bay Shore as she was serenaded with the morning calls of the birds. Actually, there seemed to be quite a lot of birds. As she rounded the bend in the path, she discovered why. Ahead of her was a man, walking down the trail with a swarm of birds fluttering about him. She contemplated the strange scene, all of those birds, swooping down on the man, and then she saw why. He removed his hand from his pocket, and stretched it out in front of himself, a half dozen birds swooped down and accepted the seed from the palm of his hand. She smiled at the scene as she jogged by.

She saw the man a few times that winter, always the morning after the rain, always on a lonely stretch of trail, but as spring set in and the sun started rising earlier, the trail became more crowded, and soon she forgot about the bird man. That was until late summer. She had been working on her endurance, running a bit further down the trail each morning,  until one morning she turned a corner and found a bench overlooking the bay, and sat down to take a rest.  After a few minutes, she stood to leave just as a woman approached her and asked if she could sit.

“Of course,” I said, “I was actually just leaving.”

But as a rose she noticed a plaque on the bench “For Jim, the bird man of San Leandro.”

“Oh no,” she sucked in her breath.

“Dearie, did you know my husband?” The older lady said, noticing the expression on her face as she looked at the plaque.

“No, not really, I just saw him a few times, out here feeding the birds,” she stuttered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you dear, but it has been ten years now, still I like to come out here and sit with him.”

“Sorry, ten years? Well that couldn’t have been him then, the man I saw was out here a few months ago.”

“Tall, white hair, green jacket and a purple baseball cap?”

“Yes, that’s the man I saw.”

“How lovely, it was him! It’s been a long time since I met someone who has seen his ghost!”

“Oh,” she said, stunned, “well, I should probably go.” And she turned and jogged back down the path toward home.

The worst thing about mornings was the fact they were so darn early, and she was so not a morning person. The good thing about not being a morning person is it was easy to trick herself into getting up and doing things, as long as she set the alarm early enough, the grumpy part of her wouldn’t be awake yet to protest.

The sun was just rising at her back as her feet pounded the gravel to the rhythm of her breath. She didn’t like to admit it, but she loved these morning runs. It was how she meditated on the day to come.

There weren’t many of the regulars out on the trail this morning, probably because of the rain that passed through the night before, but it was kind of nice to have the path all to herself. Just her thoughts swirling in the lapping waters of the Bay Shore as she was serenaded with the morning calls of the birds. Actually, there seemed to be quite a lot of birds. As she rounded the bend in the path, she discovered why. Ahead of her was a man, walking down the trail with a swarm of birds fluttering about him. She contemplated the strange scene, all of those birds, swooping down on the man, and then she saw why. He removed his hand from his pocket, and stretched it out in front of himself, a half dozen birds swooped down and accepted the seed from the palm of his hand. She smiled at the scene as she jogged by.

She saw the man a few times that winter, always the morning after the rain, always on a lonely stretch of trail, but as spring set in and the sun started rising earlier, the trail became more crowded, and soon she forgot about the bird man. That was until late summer. She had been working on her endurance, running a bit further down the trail each morning,  until one morning she turned a corner and found a bench overlooking the bay, and sat down to take a rest.  After a few minutes, she stood to leave just as a woman approached her and asked if she could sit.

“Of course,” I said, “I was actually just leaving.”

But as a rose she noticed a plaque on the bench “For Jim, the bird man of San Leandro.”

“Oh no,” she sucked in her breath.

“Dearie, did you know my husband?” The older lady said, noticing the expression on her face as she looked at the plaque.

“No, not really, I just saw him a few times, out here feeding the birds,” she stuttered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you dear, but it has been ten years now, still I like to come out here and sit with him.”

“Sorry, ten years? Well that couldn’t have been him then, the man I saw was out here a few months ago.”

“Tall, white hair, green jacket and a purple baseball cap?”

“Yes, that’s the man I saw.”

“How lovely, it was him! It’s been a long time since I met someone who has seen his ghost!”

“Oh,” she said, stunned, “well, I should probably go.” And she turned and jogged back down the path toward home.