Floating here. Between. In the space between… everything.
Holding. Just holding. Waiting. For what? Everything and nothing.
Waiting for the Coroner to release his tiny body.
Waiting for answers.
Waiting for approval on the apartment for the kids.
Waiting for someone to pick up this fucking vulture. Yep. Vulture. Turkey Vulture to be exact. A moment of not-so-comic relief, if cameras had been rolling. 2 Grama ladies with blankets chasing an injured turkey vulture across the windblown desert; desperate to save it. That mission, at least, accomplished. Captured, caged and eating beef heart, if not healing, now. 10 million calls to wildlife rescues and rehabs later, “Buzz” stands in his cage, one wing slightly drooping, waiting also. It seems all the local rehabbers are pretty busy with the fires.
Waiting for the Coroner to release his tiny body. That’s the one that has us so stuck; so… holding. We need to bring him home. Momma and Daddy need that. That awful reality.
2 comments for this post
“Waiting for answers.”
Prepare yourself to understand that once the answers come, they may never be what you wish them to be.
But I believe also, that there is a special force that takes care of two old granny’s that chase a vulture across the desert and give it comfort.:)
hugs and hugs and hugs to you and yours thornie. my heart is breaking for you. b
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