Undoubtedly a wet season had allowed water to deepen in the central pond of the field, a tank, though no livestock could be seen. Water was also standing in the low spots. Looking out across the expansive field, my eye was drawn by glints and sparks of sunshine reflected off the standing water, otherwise invisible in the grass. Little birds stalked newborn insects. Robins, especially, grazed with determination, hopping through bright green stripes and then flying into shrubs and small trees that surrounded the pond. Very high up a big bird flew, a kind of hawk, I thought, and imagined I heard it shriek.
If I hadn’t had to drive out to the nursing home I wouldn’t have seen all this. If I hadn’t been crying I wouldn’t have had to pull over onto the ranch road. If my mother hadn’t cried I would not have been crying. My trail of events was outside and unrelated to the field and pond, the standing water and stalking birds, the sunshine and the green grass, but they had brought me here. Was there ever anything I had done, was there some value I possessed that would have made my life hold this place? Surely not, and yet, like a thief, I pocketed the moment. Peace in pieces – collect them all, I say.[/url]
