112. Little Bird

Sometimes I wonder if the bluebird watches me.

I’ve seen him too many times to wonder if it’s just random. Too many times around my house and on my deck and by my window.

I know it’s him. I just wonder why he’s still around.

Sometimes I think the bluebird is a ghost of Jocelyn that’s haunting me, trying to get me to understand its language and find the key.

Sometimes I think it’s Iris looking at me with questioning eyes, wondering how I could have entered her life only to see it all burn to the ground.

Sometimes I think it’s an angel wondering what happened to me and where I went wrong.

Sometimes I think it’s a demon out to get me, out to corner me and pin me down and peck my eyes out.

And sometimes I think it’s just a bluebird out there, flying because it has nothing better to do.

I like the last thought the best.

Yeah.

But that doesn’t mean I believe it.