Annoying Birdhouses

Yesterday I was cleaning my office and sighing in exasperation at a pair of birdfeeders blocking my progress. They're homemade birdfeeders, unpainted and not particularly well-constructed. However, a dear friend gave them to me, from the trunk of his car, while he was searching for something else. An acquaintance of his, 91 years old, makes and distributes them, which is how my friend received them in the first place. I have five cats, but I accepted them anyway, certain I can find a home for them.

So, months later, here they are, still occupying my teeny tiny office. When I trip over them, I stick them on top of the garbage can. When I need to empty the can, I place them in front of the filing cabinet. When I open the bottom drawer, I set them on the window seat. Yet, I never throw them away.

Why do I keep them? They tangibly remind me that, even at 91, we still have gifts to share and purposes and destinies to fulfill. When I write, I don't, unfortunately, always hit the mark, but I'm encouraged to know that somewhere, a 91 year old is making birdhouses because he must, to the happy delight of a bird or two.

If he can do it, I can. And so, I pour another cup of coffee, click "new document" and begin typing.