Dove

I can’t get the image out of my head. A week ago, a mourning dove flew into our closed window. It was a bright day. The tinted glass captured a mirror image of our backyard in vivid detail. The bird smacked into it, crumpling into a pile of feathers and sinew. The death disturbed my girls, particularly Coco. She is tenderhearted toward all forms of wildlife.

Cherry explained, “It was just a dove and they don’t have very big brains. He must have thought he was flying into another part of the yard. Bird Brain.”

I shoveled the dove into a Walgreens bag and tossed it into the dumpster behind the house.

When I came back to the patio, I saw it. The bird in flight left a smudge. The detail of wings and feathers and beak, and the body language of distress, then death, looked like a photograph on the glass. I couldn’t look away. The image was interesting and disturbing.

I wanted to protect my family from the memory. So, I grabbed a bottle of glass cleaner and spritzed the image. Although, I wiped it down with a clean cloth, I haven’t been able to get that dove’s imprint out of my head.

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3 thoughts on “Dove

  1. Interesting, I wonder why it made such am impact on you. I once saw a bird print on a window and, as insensitive as it was, I laughed my brains out. I know…kinda mean but I didn’t see it happen, just the perfect print after wards.

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  2. I think I reacted that way because I saw the bird crash, and then, I saw my child’s reaction to it. At another time in my life, I might have felt differently. Parenthood changed me.

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