How Grief Spends The Day With Me
4 min readApr 7, 2022
Grief whispers, “No one likes the birds but you.”
The birds are waiting for me when I wake up, perched in the nectarine tree where the feeders hang. I wonder if the neighbors notice their chatter.
Grief whispers, “No one likes the birds but you.”
“I don’t care,” I tell her, but it’s a lie.
