Today the bluebirds came back.

Four of them swooped beneath the trees in the backyard, looking for worms.

Their cerulean blue wings were otherworldly and a startling contrast to the browns and oranges of the leaves in the rest of the yard. I like to think they were our own baby hatchlings from last summer, come to check in.

But they were gone in a moment, off to fairer fields.

My son also came by to visit in the backyard too, and like the bluebirds, it was a brief, but sweet, sighting.

And now, I cling to the tiny details: his newly long hair, his crinkly smile. In bed tonight my husband and I will dissect every morsel, like birdseed in our craws – did he say what he’s writing right now? Did he mention travel? Did he tell us when he’d be back?

Little crumbs, oh how we live off of them.

And I guess it will have to be enough, for now.

the small things become big things. I savor every contact.

I want to believe that I am appreciating life even more these days – the small things become big things. I savor every contact.

If this pandemic has taught me one thing it is this: I cannot control the larger forces that dictate the health of the world, but I can take things as they come.

We’re only here for a little while, and our mouthfuls have always been basically parting tastes of the gifts we will leave behind.

And for my chickens too. It occurs to me that they already know the truth of the crumbs – they hunt and peck for each tiny grain one morsel at a time. They realize that they can handle only one bite, not the whole yard.

A lesson in that.

Dale Chihuly, glass sculpture