Dropping eaves

I visited my mother's grave last night for the first time since winter. The summer drought had yellowed the new sod. I weeded the crabgrass and the creeping charlie away from the headstone and considered how pleased she would be that I was spending my visit gardening, even in this limited form.

My mother was a simple person. She didn't have much to say about politics, war, crime & punishment, or the multitude of social issues that we face in the dawn of the 21st century. But weeding crabgrass was something that she could really get behind.

I wanted to talk to her but I admit that my own lack of understanding in the way of how this world and the next interact with eachother left me feeling unsure of myself. I began speaking as though I were leaving a message on an answering machine belonging to someone I did not know.

"Just thought I'd stop by," I started, testing the water. It seemed no more ackward than talking to her when she had been alive and unconscious, so I continued. "I know that you're not here, but on the off-chance that God lets you listen in, I thought-"

My disclaimer was stopped cold when by chance I glanced up at the nearby cross. It is actually a bell tower, about a three-story high structure. Perched on the head of the cross was a huge crow, looking down at me. He was holding his wings away from his body in order to regulate his body temperature in the heat of the summer evening. It gave the appearance that he was cupping his wings to his ears in order to hear me better.

I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again and swallowed. The whole scene left me speechless.

After a momentary staredown another crow flew by. My would-be eavesdropper hopped off into the air and flew away with his mate, leaving me at the foot of the cross, to write this down.