
The next day, I brought a bag of birdseed. I’d sprinkle a little pile on the asphalt two spaces over. Within a week, a small squadron of birds would be waiting in the hedge at 12:15 sharp.
It became our ritual. They’d hop around, chirping, while I ate. We had an understanding. They got lunch; I got company.
Today was different. They were there, but they weren't eating. They were clustered around something. As I got closer, I saw it: a single, perfect, blue-tipped feather, placed neatly in the center of the usual seed spot.
They watched me. I picked it up. It wasn't from any of them (they’re all brown and grey).
It felt like a thank you note. Or a receipt. I sat in my car holding this impossibly blue feather, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly seen and... blessed.
Comments