My intention when I walked into Pier 1 that day was to pick
up the chairs I’d ordered. It was the picture of the bird with a beak full of
miscellany that stopped me. I turned to my ever-agreeable Bob. “Building a
nest. That sums up my life this past
year. I’ve got to have it.”
This was before I remembered birds build nests mainly to raise their babies. They live (roost) elsewhere. Clearly not my situation. My nest is
post–birdlings. It’s an empty-nester’s nest, one that this time around I expect
to live in until I die.
Nevertheless, I
bought the picture and hung it on the naked wall of my newly erected house.
