This will always be Your Bird

It's been a year and almost a week... I've been through the stages I guess. Reminders sometimes make me smile, and a good thing too, as there are many of them.

 This time of year seems to be the hardest though. Picking away at the accounts for the taxes, the one time of year when we got to talk face-to-face for a couple of days instead of fast on the phone....unless we dropped something off at your house when the garden was making extra or something like that.

Sitting in the office in the same chair you used when you visited, I puzzle over an entry...what account, what account....and I remember labeling such data in a weird fashion, knowing that when you sat at this same desk, teasing the useful numbers out of my tangled tales of income and expenses, you would ask, "What's this?"

And, memory jogged, I would explain, and you would fix it as it needed to be.

Now, I still puzzle and just hope our accountant catches it.

Auto-fill in the bookkeeping program you set up for me. When I pay the power bills it offers your name as the first suggestion, from back in the day when I still paid you in money rather than in soup and homemade bread and before the days when we were both paid in time spent together...talking....waiting for the best birds to come out to celebrate your visits....just being friends. We were, weren't we? Great friends, the kind they talk about who can be separate for weeks, months, years, and then take up as if we just had coffee yesterday.

You know how the kids say BFF, best friends for ever? Yeah, that still holds.