Gift

Christmas morning is quiet when it's just the two of you. The neighborhood was deserted and we were alone together. Snowflake got into his highchair and ate some fruit, not knowing Santa had marked the living room, like a naughty pug.

Stepping outside late in the morning, I noticed the crunch in the air. Slushy snow has now solidified into ice, trapping the important part of the pooper scopper until the Spring thaw. I took Charlie out first because he is The King.

I love that dog. He is virtually the same as the day I brought him home, only bigger. I was happy to have him by my side on this lonely feeling day. He sniffed around and did exactly what is expected.

It's weird not having plans on Christmas. Christmas at my parents was last night and today we had not one plan other than Snowflake unwrapping presents from Santa. I just felt very sorrowful being just we two. No visitors, nothing.

On the way back into the house, laying square in my path on the driveway was a delicate gorgeous bird's nest, bulit from grass and red pine needles. It was right at my feet. I couldn't believe it. I didn't see it on the way out. Timing, timing.

I almost started to cry, laughing, remembering years ago when my brother, his girlfriend and I went out to get Christmas trees. I picked this smallish, wispy Charlie Brown number and my brother cut it down.

On the way to the car, I spied the tiniest, most fragile bird's nest made out of thin gray blades of grass once green snuggled in my tree. We marveled at this demure treasure.

"That's a sign of good fortune in the New Year," Brooke told me, smiling.

I scooped up this intricate wonder off the drive way, walking with a spring back into the house, placing it on a branch that holds a small dried wasp's nest in my breezeway.

I couldn't help but feel hopeful.