A reminder from the starling

We've been sorting all morning. Wait. Change that. We've been "sorting" for over a month and we've come to that nasty place where you think you have a lot done, but the house looks absolutely trashed. Papers everywhere. All of the important and pretty *things* are packed away and out of the way. The detritus that fills in the cracks remains and is no longer hiding in those cracks. It's out in the open. Mocking me. Ridiculing any effort.

The boys have been going through toys and negotiating which stay and which go. We've settled on Thomas and Legos as the main taking-along-forever toys. This frustrates Josiah who believes that we must not keep engines that are without their tenders. Totally opposite of myself as a child- an imperfection is a good reason to trash something for Joe. For me, it was a good reason to keep it forever, otherwise how would it feel??

Yes, I had compassion for inanimate objects at one point. Especially if they had a face, but even if they didn't. Pencils. Erasers. All of it might have a trace of life-energy running through it, and therefore, feelings.

While looking frantically for a pen earlier, I was called to Victor's cage by Victor himself. I was in a hurry to get to the post office, but I paused and stood by his cage. I put my hand in and he jumped onto me and gave me the sweet look that he seems to save for our moments of communication. I've always said that Victor seems to really listen when I talk to him- unlike our other pets, or even the other people in this house- he quiets down, looks me in the eye and really listens.

Instantly I felt a little guilty for the lack of attention that Victor has had these last few weeks. It isn't just Victor that's missing out, though. I've missed hanging out with him. On a normal day, I'll usually spend a few hours with Victor out in the house. He'll flock with me from room to room. He'll steal my food if I have any. He'll tangle any yarn I happen to be working with. He'll yell for more water for his endless bath-taking. He'll take a few rides on Darby's very patient back. And then he'll chill with me for awhile after the energy is expended. That's my favorite bit. The hanging-out part.

And there is the difference between a tender-less, wooden engine (face or not) and a live, feathery person like Victor.

Makes me want to get mean with the detritus and be a little unmerciful with the objects that once caught my attention.