A neighborly visit

Kids were asleep. House was clean. I sat sewing at our kitchen table, feeling decidedly domestic and wishing I had on red lipstick.

And a little fellow that looks like this hopped through our back sliding glass door.

It tilted its head to the side and looked at me. I looked at it. It's liquid eyes seemed to size me up and finally pronounced me safe.

It hopped around the room for a while, each hop a little closer to me. I sat frozen, barely daring to breathe. I felt the compliment it deigned to give me with its prescence. I slowly reached to turn off my sewing machine -

but not slowly enough. It exploded into the air, escaping in a flurry of buttery feathers.

Five minutes later the bird came back with a friend.

It must have been a girl bird.

They paused at the door, trying to nonchalantly saunter in - no doubt embarrassed by the discourteous exit from before. I recognized my previous acquaintance; she was bolder, having been here already.

The pair inspected my plants, the artwork, the furniture. All met with their approval. I realized I'd forgotten my manners, and went to fetch them some refreshment. My original friend fluttered back to wait by the door, but her companion turned tail back home. Rude.

My friend waited for me. She pecked at the crumbs I offered, keeping one eye on me all the while. She seemed to say thank you with the way she turned her head.

After the repast, she politely preened and powdered her nose. I excused myself and continued sewing. She watched for a while, then flew over to the shelf covered in pictures of my loves. Examining each one, she tweeted and twittered her questions about my children. No doubt she had observed their play and was wondering where they were. We talked like old friends. I told her the strengths of one child, the triumphs of another. My hopes for them and the things that kept me up at night worrying. She listened. Occasionally she'd turn around and gaze at me intently. Maybe she was trying to tell me she had children she worried about, too.

We both felt the visit had come to an end. She circled the room once, then landed a few feet from me, pecking at a few more crumbs she had previously overlooked. I offered her my warm thanks for the visit, and welcomed her back any time.

Then she crapped on my floor and left.

And I slammed the door shut.