I spent last week in a small Mexican town that is likely on the verge of exploding into a tourist destination. Todos Santos is charming. I loved being there.
One morning my sister work me up, and among other newsy details of the morning through which I'd so far slept, she told me a small yellow bird had crashed into the wide glass window of the front of the home we were renting. Another person in our party had gotten a towel and ever so carefully lifted the injured creature into a box. Everyone was worried the bird had broken its neck and wouldn't survive.
Ever since college, my alter ego has been "Yellow Bird." I named my letterpress publishing company "Yellow Bird," and went on to publish several non-letterpress books under the same name. I've received countless gifts over the years that feature yellow birds, so I am surrounded by them in my home and office.
I knew I'd feel a special connection to the dazed bird recuperating on the front porch of our Mexican home. I rolled out of bed, grabbed my camera, and went to check her out. My travel mates were cheering her on, giving her a spoonful of water in a soda bottle top, making sure she was in the shade, and checking on her every few minutes to see if she was up and moving around. Then they went to yoga.
I stayed nearby and looked in on the little yellow bird every now and then, noting that soon she was hopping around a bit. I decided to take her picture before she flew away. I had a feeling she'd eventually be able to.
Indeed she did. It was a small thing really, but on a lazy day in Todos Santos when nothing seemed pressing or of much importance, this event brought us all much joy.
One morning my sister work me up, and among other newsy details of the morning through which I'd so far slept, she told me a small yellow bird had crashed into the wide glass window of the front of the home we were renting. Another person in our party had gotten a towel and ever so carefully lifted the injured creature into a box. Everyone was worried the bird had broken its neck and wouldn't survive.
Ever since college, my alter ego has been "Yellow Bird." I named my letterpress publishing company "Yellow Bird," and went on to publish several non-letterpress books under the same name. I've received countless gifts over the years that feature yellow birds, so I am surrounded by them in my home and office.
I knew I'd feel a special connection to the dazed bird recuperating on the front porch of our Mexican home. I rolled out of bed, grabbed my camera, and went to check her out. My travel mates were cheering her on, giving her a spoonful of water in a soda bottle top, making sure she was in the shade, and checking on her every few minutes to see if she was up and moving around. Then they went to yoga.
I stayed nearby and looked in on the little yellow bird every now and then, noting that soon she was hopping around a bit. I decided to take her picture before she flew away. I had a feeling she'd eventually be able to.
Indeed she did. It was a small thing really, but on a lazy day in Todos Santos when nothing seemed pressing or of much importance, this event brought us all much joy.
