Word Count: 361<\/p>\n

She comes to me as a hummingbird, zooming by, hovering when I sit outside with my cold cup of coffee hunched over my thoughts. She is the spirit of Jean, my best friend.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I tell her, \u201cMike\u2019s fine.\u201d Mike is, was, her husband. Married thirty years. I think I must tell her the truth. \u201cHe\u2019s seeing some\u2026..\u201d She zooms off again.<\/p>\n

She should know, I decide that. Then it dawns on me, maybe she does know and that\u2019s what she\u2019s here to tell me. She\u2019s spent the winter down in Puerto Rico or maybe she just jumped aboard and took form here, in my backyard. In Mike\u2019s backyard maybe, where she would hang out her own feeders.<\/p>\n

Later that day she is at my kitchen window looking in at me. I turn off the faucet, move slowly. I don\u2019t want to scare her away. I don\u2019t know how much is her and how much is a hummingbird\u2019s instinct.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Lady,\u201d I say. \u201cEat, eat. You need strength.\u201d Does she? Will it bother her if her husband is with another woman now? She perches on the feeder, takes a few sips of nectar and stares in at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cJean, he\u2019s seeing someone,\u201d I say. \u201cA good woman who loves him. Is good to him.\u201d She takes off.<\/p>\n

I miss her so much. I miss the flea markets on Sundays and the breakfast stops we\u2019d make to start out each trip. Sometimes I think that\u2019s what she liked the best. I miss our secrets.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s late September and I\u2019m starting to worry. The males have already flown south. She is the last one that visits so I still fill the feeders with fresh nectar daily. I hope she knows her way back to the sun and warmth and will leave before the frost and cold winter mornings. I must tell her to go. To be safe. To be happy.<\/p>\n

I haven\u2019t seen her in a few days, then suddenly she\u2019s back. I look up from my huddled perch on the back step. \u201cJean, it\u2019s me. it\u2019s me.\u201d<\/p>\n

She dives and circles, stops at the feeder. Dives and circles again. Then she\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Word Count: 361 She comes to me as a hummingbird, zooming by, hovering when I sit outside with my cold cup of coffee hunched over my thoughts. She is the spirit of Jean, my best friend. \u201cYes,\u201d I tell her, … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[23],"class_list":["post-534","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-mainstream","tag-mainstream"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/534","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=534"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/534\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":917,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/534\/revisions\/917"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=534"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=534"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=534"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}