Let's Do the Time Warp Again

Today a friend posted a photo on Facebook, of a bird print on a window. Have you seen those? The full-body splat of a bird in flight, trying to move through glass as it cuts the air. Wham! A dirty oily bird print is left behind. Hopefully not a dead bird too. 

I remembered that, years ago, I'd seen the biggest and most detailed bird print ever on the glass of an empty storefront downtown, and I'd taken a picture of it in the night, with just the right amount of illumination from nearby street lights. I'd been able to make out individual feathers, and what must surely have been the last moment of its clear-minded thoughts. I hadn't seen it there, crumpled on the sidewalk beneath the window, so unless someone had snatched its body, it had to have shaken off the impact and flown away. Wonder what it looks like to limp in the air. 

All of this to say that when I remembered that awful and darkly funny sight, I wanted to track down the actual image, and share it with my friend: See, we're in this club together. You and I have both seen ghost birds in the glass. My memory suggested that I might find the photo in this old blog I used to write, which I abandoned several years ago. After my post searches turned up no bird print photo, I went back to my earliest entries and started reading, for fun. 

Reading my blog was like reconnecting with an old friend. I miss the person who wrote all these posts here. If I believe for myself what I tell others, that we collect and carry around all the ages and people we've been in this life, then I guess my friend isn't far away at all. Like, AT ALL. I'm glad to be here to hear her voice again, share in her feelings, and celebrate her/my/our growth. 

I was surprised and happy to learn, by looking at the dates of my posts, that I started this blog slightly more than twenty years ago. TWENTY YEARS!

Suddenly, I felt motivated to write here again, which was something I wasn't sure I'd ever do. 

Maybe soon I'll sort out what it is I want to write about. Or maybe I'll just write. 

Welcome back, me. Welcome home, my own bird splat spirit. So much has changed in my life in the eight years since I let this blog's battery run down, and yet, so much has not and probably will not change. I can see my dusty outlines against the unyielding transparency, made apparent by the street lamps, and by the light of the moon. Let's don't move in that direction anymore, okay, self? 

Am I back? I think I might be. I'm stretching out my wings.