Friday, 20 November 2009

The Heron

Today, just as Mike walked into the kitchen, I looked out of the lounge window and watched a heron take off. It was flying low across the lawn and upward through the branches of our garden’s trees. I have very mixed feelings regarding the heron, because he empties our pond, but I love to watch him. It takes away my breath when I watch him in flight. He did not fly very far – just across the paddock and into the field, where he spent the next two hours silently stalking the river’s edge.

Later on, I watched a goldcrest, such a tiny restless little bird. He spent ten minutes between a conifer and a bird bath never staying long on either, but impatiently flying between the two.

Monday feels very near now. I cannot believe that for the last few months I have been so anxious for this day to arrive, and now that it is here I am filled with dread. Will I have the strength and fortitude to bear what I must if the news is bad? How foolish and selfish to even wonder such a thing when I have already lived 67 years, and so very many people have not even had this much.

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