One is the Loneliest Number

I have been single for quite a few years, and up until recently it has never bothered me. I have kept myself busy with my family; my two daughters and two grandsons who live with me. Life in my house with the five of us is noisy, chaotic and full of activity.

As winter nears this year, I've found that I'm feeling my single-ness more than I ever have in the past. In spite of all the noise, the clutter and the toys -- I feel alone. Not that glad-to-have-some-time-to-myself alone...but an empty, hollow alone.

It's as if I have been asleep all these years, and suddenly have awakend with a jolt to a stark, bare forest. How is this possible? I have all these people around me, and yet feel so solitary? Why when they come to me, in my heart I wish they would leave me alone? It doesn't make sense! If I don't want to be alone, then why do I get annoyed when my family wants to spend time with me? Yet, that's all I seem to want these days --to be left alone...but not.

I guess what I miss is a relationship with someone my own age. Warm hugs from strong arms, the tickle of someone's breath as they whisper in my ear...a yearning hand reaching for me in the darkness. I miss looking at someone, and they know exactly what I'm thinking without my saying a word.

I miss being me. Not mom. Not gramma. Just ME. I miss being loved for who I am as a person, not just because I cook dinner or pay for that new pair of jeans.

Each night I crawl into bed, cold sheets and my heart aching for companionship, for love. And slowly but surely I'm finding it harder to face each day. The kids laughter and play noises reverberate off the walls till it sounds like a faint echo of some other place where I am not.

Where am I? I'm not sure, exactly. I've been avoiding twitter, where my friends have come to know me as the sassy granny who is fun and funny. How can I disappoint them? They all have problems of their own, and normally I give hugs, kisses and words of encouragement or a laugh or two. Snark is what I do best...but then someone's father dies, another friend is in dialysis, another has cancer. Maybe they're losing their home, or they too are alone. Reality creeps in like frost on a bitter night.

With Love, Granni

Update: Bernie Bird

Many of you have asked me about Bernie, the little baby bird we rescued in June after a nasty storm blew him out of his nest. Almost completely bald, with a mouth larger than his head, we named him Bernie because he looked like a little old man.

To be honest, I didn't think Bernie was going to survive his first night with us. Cold and weak and drenched from rain, he couldn't even make a sound anymore. Those first few days were tough, I had to open his beak and give him food and water in small increments every 20 minutes. After about 3 days or so, he began opening his mouth for food and making small squeaks.

Before long Bernie got stronger, his feathers burst through their casings and he developed quite a personality. We still are unsure what kind of bird he is and he can really get aggressive at times.

We've had several attempts at letting Bernie go free, but he doesn't fly well and loses his balance occasionally. I can only assume that there is some kind of hidden injury to his body that affected him this way. He did after all, fall about 100 feet from the cottonwood tree where his nest was located.

So Bernie is now our pet, he loves his cage and plays with a little dangling bell I put in there. He looks at himself in the mirror quite a bit, opening his mouth and looking down his own throat. It's comical to watch. He is now full grown, and very beautiful! You can't see it in the photo, but his feathers are brown on the tips with green and electric blue at the base with the white dots everywhere.

Bernie Bird has imitated all the whistles I've tried on him. He does the bobwhite, whippoorwill, chickadees, sparrow and cardinal calls...which are the only ones I could manage to teach him. He also does the old traditional "cat call" whistle, you know--the one construction workers use at a pretty lady walking by... He imitates the microwave beep as well. He imitates my laugh, and something else I never expected. He says "Bernie Bird" almost as clear as the human voice! My daughter told me he was talking, but I didn't believe her till I heard it myself.

I'm still not sure what kind of bird Bernie is, but I'm so happy he survived and he fills my days with the most beautiful sounds! He is a joy and a pleasure to have in my home.

With Much Love and Hugs,

Granni