Submitted by megan on Sat, 06/06/2015 - 20:37
Hanging my laundry today, I looked up and thought "That is a special bird." When I lived closer to Bronson, I used to see a Great Blue Heron pretty frequently. It got so that d.jack thought I had a special power to call it.
I've loved Great Blue Herons since I was a kid. We spent lots of time up at my Granny and Poppa's house, a house they built themselves nestled into a hill, with a long lawn that rolled into a pond and a creek. We saw and named lots of birds there, but none caught my heart as much as the heron. All our hearts. When one of the herons flapped in or out of the marsh behind the pond, whoever saw it would yell for everyone around to look.
The City of Vancouver had a Heron Cam with which I have fallen slightly in love. The herons, being if not masters of camouflage, then at least no flunkies, aren't all that easy to see: a little pixelly from the camera, blurry from the grey-blue tree branches criss-crossing their grey-blue plumage. But then, a flash of a yellow beak and stark black-white stripes, and there is a magnificent bird filing its beak.
My Granny died nearly a year ago, on April 4th, 2014. She was six weeks away from her hundredth birthday, and I hadn't been to see her in over a year. Not since d.jack's dad had gotten sick.
With his dad, we knew relatively quickly that every moment counted. I didn't want to go home and miss his last couple of days. And then after he died, it was all the firsts. First days, first weeks, first month, first holidays, first birthdays. It was hard for everyone who knew him. He was a kind man.
And then it was 7:00 am on April 5th and my Dad was on the other end of the phone. My dad rarely calls me. I still miss her every day.