I've heard it said that when a bird poops on you, it's good luck. Now, I'm not a superstitious person. I think this one came about as a means of trying to make a person feel better about getting pooped on. 'Cause, seriously, what's crappier than getting pooped on? So, last week I went to the mail place to visit Van. He wasn't in, which made me sad. His Ex was there, and I think she was giving a Russian language lesson to the guy she was sitting across from. I didn't want to interrupt to ask about Van (especially since the two have been going through a divorce--extra fun when you own a business together!!--and she was concerned at one point that I might be "the other woman"). But I had a package slip in my mailbox, so I approached the counter and smiled and handed it to her. She didn't really look at me, just took the slip with a limp hand then sat, as if deciding whether or not the slip was legit. "What's the name?" she said, her Russian accent perfectly complementing her cold tone of voice. The guy sitting at the counter said to The Ex, "I think her package is in the back, don't you?" in a manner that I found a bit disconcerting. Was there a Russian mobster in the back room or something? The Ex seemed confused, but the guy kept it up, "Yeah, send her to the back to get her package." Umm, what the...but then I listened, and I heard chirping. Lots of teeny little chirping sounds coming from the back room. "I think he wants you to see what's in the back room," The Ex mumbled, in a none-too-friendly way. I hesitated, finding the whole situation to be kind of weird. But the teeny chirps got me, I had to see what was making that noise!
I headed back and turned into the room, windowless and dark but for a lamp on the floor, pointed into a grey basin. Two little girls looked up when I entered, and one immediately approached me, saying, "This one is Cheep Cheep. She's the only one I know because she's the only one that's pooped on me." In her hand was a tiny baby chick, no bigger than the hand itself. And in the basin, there were her sisters and brothers (but Cheep Cheep's human-friend told me that most of the babies were girls, that's just the way they get made). There were at least 20 of them, mostly golden fuzz, though about 6 or 7 were black and grey. They chirped away in the basin, the heat of the lamp upon them like noon-time sun in the winter desert, bouncing off of each other as they tried to hop to a new spot. Here, in this dark room, these chicks knew nothing other than the chick-filled, grey-walled world they inhabited, with the occasional super-huge human head hovering above in the darkness. They had no understanding of the world I lived in. Beyond my gargantuan head, they saw only darkness, a starless night that extended deep into Forever. And for a moment, looking down on their tiny beaks and teeny legs, I wanted to trade places. Shrink down to a golden fuzzy newborn (with no understanding of the life of egg-laying servitude that lay before me, or the possible appearance on some day's dinner table) and bounce around in wonder, feeling the warmth, eating the seed, pooping wherever I may please.
"Do you wanna hold her?" I was brought out of my daydream by Cheep Cheep's human, who was holding her hands towards me with the baby chick staring out from her fingers, probably wondering, "What the..." "Oh yes, I wanna hold her!" Though I admit to being nervous. I've always been nervous around babies, human, chicken, all of 'em. I was the baby in the family, see, and it wasn't until I was a troubled teenager that I first found myself with a baby being offered to me, "You wanna hold him?" Hell no, I didn't want to hold him! I was terrified! What if I broke it? Really, it was the idea of a newborn, all that powerful life-stuff ahead of him, that freaked me out. I was a teenager, and thoughts and fears of child-rearing were a common lunch-table topic for me and my too-old-too-young girlfriends. Having a baby thrust towards me had a physical effect: my body suddenly went cold, the sounds of the room were warped, and my mouth had the texture of damp cotton. It was all I could do to squeak out a "no" and take a step backwards. But behind me was a wall, and the baby came closer, insisting to be held, until I had to find a way of raising my voice and making my "No" mean no. (It was another 14 years before I finally gave in and held a baby, my nephew Dylan, who was born just a few days before my "You seriously STILL haven't held a baby?" birthday.) Babies freak me out! But the fuzzy animal babies, well, I'm a sucker.
I took Cheep Cheep into my hands ("Don't squeeze or she'll pop!" the little human told me) and stared down at her little head, no bigger than the tip of my thumb. So cute! She was vibrating with energy, her little eyes looking this way and that, as the world outside of the heat-lamp began coming into focus. I tipped my head down towards her, until the tip of my nose could rub the top of her head. I wanted to eat her up, she was so cute! So tiny, so new, so full of wonder. Oh, to be a baby chick... And then she pooped on me. Right in my hand. And I was done with Cheep Cheep.
As I washed my hands in the bathroom, I looked into the mirror, and I smiled. Life is funny, you know? I went to get my mail, and a chicken pooped in my hand. You never know what life's got in store for you. 30 minutes later, I would be walking into the beginning of what's been a really hard week (I'm still waiting to cash in my A-Bird-Pooped-On-Me good luck). But at that very moment, washing Lucky Poop off my hands, I couldn't help but marvel at the very idea of being alive. Every day is a new adventure, whether I want the adventure or not. It can be hard to appreciate, when the adventure is of the Novice level. It can be hard to navigate, when the level is at Expert. Rarely am I prepared for the obstacles, the bends and turns along the way. At times, I manage tricky terrain like a mountain lion. At others, I manage to screw up a straight path. And for all the days I wish I could just be a baby chicken, there are days when I am revelling in my humanity.
But, if anyone's out there, doling out the Lucky Poop payroll, I can really use some good fortune right about now...
No comments:
Post a Comment