A few months ago, or maybe a few weeks, or maybe last year (when? who are you?) your dad and I were walking you guys around the neighborhood and passed a house with about a hundred, or fifty, or twenty birds on the roof.
“What is going there?” your dad said.
“I feel like there is a dead body in the attic of that house,” I said.
“That’s a weird thing to say,” he said.
I said, “I know.”
…When we moved into the house there was dead grass on the lawn. Then no grass. Then, thanks to the magic of seeding, lots of lush, green, beautiful blades! Our yard was like a football field*! (*A tiny one, perhaps for tiny football players, possibly ants.) Now, thanks to a heat wave and a disease (our lawn has crabs! crab grass, but still) our lawn is dead again. And we are seeding again, which brings me to this morning…
“Hey, babe?” began the message I was leaving on your father’s work voicemail as we sat in our driveway in our car, dumbfounded, stopped still on our way to music class. “Remember when we saw that house with all the birds on the roof?”
I looked up at our house, encircled by a hundred birds. Or fifty. Or twenty. They were on the lawn ferociously pecking away at the newly planted grass seed. They were on the roof, suspiciously glaring down from their perch.
Nanny was with us, sitting next to me in the front seat. She, too, sat looking up in awe. With her jaw dropped she said, “it looks like the house from ‘The Birds…'”
“It looks like. . . we have a dead body in the attic. . .”
“That’s a weird thing to say. . .”
“I know. . . ”
And then we drove.
It’s funny in life the things that come full circle. It’s funny, being bitten by your words.