Occasionally you wake and crave something or somewhere you haven't thought about in a long time. Maybe your subconscious has been rolling it around for awhile, who knows, but then one day, the nostalgia or wishfulness or flat out craving arises. A few weeks ago, I dreamt about the verdant, quiet saltwater estuaries along the Southern coast, with their meandering creeks, the long-legged wading birds, the sound of air popping from the muddy banks, and the occasional surfacing dolphin.



On another plane of wanting, this past week I saw a sad, scared conure at the shelter, not yet up for adoption, shaking in its cage, unhappy at my cooing near it. It had a splotchy yellow head, so maybe it was a sun conure x'ed with something else, like a Jenday. I heard on internet that they are called Sun-days. How cute. How perfect. How too much.

I have written before at length why I won't get another bird. I know the logical and logistical reasons for my No. These factors don't factor in emotion, especially ones inflated by walking around a shelter, where we got Bug in the first place.

And the logical and logistical have no say in wanting to kayak in the marsh, to drag your fingers in the warm water, either.

The murky weather of the brain vs. the tick-tock, stay on task mantra of living as a day-to-day human often don't mix very well.