This morning while out for a sniff-and-stroll for the Small Dogs, I spotted half of an eggshell on the sidewalk -- some wee little bird must have recently hatched out, leaving this remnant behind. Where was the nest for this bird? I could not see one.
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Five years ago today was the Unmooring. The grief of that event has attenuated over time, and it is now possible to reflect on it without undue sorrow. I am not sure yet that I can think of the Unmooring as an emergence into a new world, but perhaps I can think of recollections from the time before the Unmooring as forming a lovely, ephemeral eggshell in which I once grew.
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