Around this time last year, one morning, looking briefly out of the bathroom window a dove caught my attention. They often come to our garden, attracted by the winter-dried seeds of the Laburnum tree in the corner. But this particular time, there was something odd about the bird. Perched heavily on the wooden trellis that had been nailed into the top of the flint wall, the dove’s movements seemed irregular; unbalanced in some way. (I have been fond of doves and their soothing “Take two cows, Taffy” song for as long as I can remember.)
I would have forgotten the sight of this unsteady bird had I not stepped out into the garden a morning or two after, and found it lying between flower pots in the shade, still soft but cold. A sharp pain of sadness filled me while my young son peered through my legs.
“I’m sorry, darling dove…not to have stayed with you a little while longer. I didn’t know, but perhaps should have known that you were saying your goodbye.”
I see now, more clearly, that my time is running out. A relief for me though is that I am just old enough now to see the original life-song that filled my childhood heart has not and will not change. It is the same single call and all I long for is to find the right notes that will carry it most truthfully through the years, after I am gone.
“Everything is held in the peace that you are…….Take two cows, Taffy……Everything is held in the peace that you are.”