The ‘writing at my desk when I looked out the window’ prompt
I was writing at my desk in my home office when I looked out the window just in time to watch a pair of cardinals land in the crab apple tree.
It has become a platitude, seeing cardinals. The spirit of loved ones coming to call.
I don’t buy into that kind of superstition.
But I conceded. Seeing the bright red feathers dancing in the budding spring tree gave my an excuse to pause.
I could hear my father, 11 years gone now, in the sweet, clear whistle of the cardinal. My father was a whistler, and with his silver hair and broad shoulders, he stood out like a cardinal in a budding tree.
Maybe the cardinal was reminding me that whatever crisis is anchoring me to my desk in this fine day, would one day pass. Maybe he was just tweeting about dinner. My father could have told me either of those things in equal measure.
I thought about my grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts and uncles all long dead. What wisdom could any of them be trying to impart from their crimson wings?
Look inside. Look to God. Look to your family. Look to friends and strangers. Don’t look back, I hear them telling me. The past is for the birds.
Each week my spouse and I write short essays to share with each other — under 300 words, submitted within 24 hours, and written off of a prompt. This is the third one. This prompt sparked another short piece.
