Early in the morning I sit on the deck overlooking the still lake. It is cool, surprisingly cool, as I prop my feet up on the railing and open my book. Neighborhood dogs are barking at something up the shoreline, but here on the deck it is quiet except for the fluttering of wings. So many birds flitting around the trees, I only catch a glimpse of some; a house finch, a cardinal glowing in the dappled morning light. I think the birds are startled to see me there, being used to the emptiness of this house. A hummingbird suddenly appears. It stares at the red t-shirt I slept in last night and am still wearing. Then he zooms away and I feel sad that there is no food for him, that there hasn’t been a feeder here for the past 11 years.

Mom always kept the feeder full.