THE NARRATIVE ARC
When William and I Wished the Migrating Birds Farewell
We practiced for the changing seasons of his young life
Autumn, again
As I sat on the porch this morning, the usual 6 am silence was pierced by the purposeful squawking of a squadron of birds on their journey south.
They were harbingers of autumn, with its combination of brilliant colors and growing darkness, and the brilliant sun in its sharp, brave stand against the growing chill.
And once again, they reminded me of William.
Remembering
William was the five-year-old son of my friend Joy. He was the younger brother of Keisha and Sammie. When my schedule allowed, I took the kids for the afternoon, so Joy could do errands or just enjoy some peace and quiet. With my daughter away at college, I relished the noise and action in my too quiet house.
Keisha and Sammie were very easy-going kids. William, on the other hand, was a piece of work. From birth, he reacted to the world like he had just stuck his finger into a live electrical socket.
He never hesitated to loudly register his displeasure with his screaming voice and every available limb. He was the prince of tantrums…