Monday, February 14, 2011
The day after Mrs. Birdseed died, her family went to her two room house that sits on the edge of the 100-acre field. They carried the white bird cage that sat on a table next to her love seat outside and opened the little door releasing the small green headed parrot that Mrs. Birdseed had received as a Valentine’s gift from her Mexican neighbor three years prior. It was not intended as a romantic gift, “Mrs. Birdseed, this bird, he will keep you company. My brother brings the birds from Mexico every month. He sells them at the flea market. This bird is a particularly fine bird.” And so she gladly took the beautiful and somewhat elaborate white bird cage with little bars curled and twisted like lace. She named the bird Peter, because she once knew a man by that name who worked in the library. Peter never charged her late fees and sometimes she saw him eating his lunch on a bench in the town park -- always alone, slightly hunched, knees together as though he was expecting disaster.