It was late February 2020, and I walked back into work after a morning break. We had had twenty minutes discussing trials and laughing at trivial. Our climb up the hill was the same as every morning, except for the crows. Five crows were sitting there on the ground, waiting as we made the crest to the parking lot. It was a lovely morning in late February’s crisp and cool air.
It was the first time I felt like I had my own house. I had worked hard renovating this 4th and Gill substandard diamond for the up-and-coming renaissance in rent. It was a gem, and I was proud. I got a call from my best friend. She was coming to town and needed a place to stay. ” Sure, you can stay.” But, my husband was at Penland for the summer. I was going to visit and would be gone the weekend. I left a key. Penland: art, inspiration, creativity swirling in a dream I still have 25 years later. At home found my life infiltrated by a borrowed family. Their subsidized life intertwined with mine, mostly removed for government cheese and canned goods. I was manic, enraged, and frightened, so I made the call. I ejected them overnight; locks changed and done. I spent that night with Earl’s family and listened as he answered the phone. It was after that the crows started coming.
Spring is airy and sweet. I’d put flowers, bulbs, and herbs around the front door; vegetables in planters outback. He has his glass. I had a room for painting. We carved out what we needed, and it was all just like Spring. Everything was cut and pasted Betty Crocker with lacy bohemian fringes. Look, there’s a crow on the line weighing as heavy as the cloud bank behind. Cancer. We did well going back and forth as long as we could, but the treatments were severe. Time. She moved into the back room. I gave the shots and changed the bag. He came home and spent the evening making her happy.
I stopped counting crows. Do you know when you wrap up in a blanket and roll down the hill for the thrill?
It’s all still a blur. We bought a house. Then the baby. I finished college. It was a whirlwind where everything happened. My rosemary was thick with prospects. The jump to six acres seemed confident and the right move. He’d have his glass, and I’d have my farm. I’d seen the crows but kept on. We divorced. Way too long after, I should have left. I got an apartment, and my daughter and I are still trying to piece ourselves back together. It’s incredible how such a tiny hole in the clouds can illuminate so much color, and colors change so quickly.
It was late February 2020 when he was arrested, and he thought I should go his bail. After two months of calls from prison phones, bailsmen, and cellmates, I made calls, and he was released.
Then, Covid-19 hit. Hard. We are all home, working, or out of jobs, and everyone stays glued to their screens—all of us biting nails and buying time. Shortly after covid came, my friend was diagnosed with cancer.
Oh, my blue Subaru. It’s a beauty of a beater and the only thing I owned. Such be the case, the transmission fell out. The blue Subaru had already gotten a rebuilt motor. There was no money for a new car, and I had the romantic idea of restoring the vehicle. So, I put down for a new transmission. Two weeks later, my kid totals the car. Have you ever watched the shadows of the power lines trailing, tacking, and shifting while you’re riding down the road? As a kid, sometimes, that was the only entertainment while driving.
Along comes Spring, then Summer, then I saw the mold. I’d been having health troubles for several months, not knowing what was wrong. Until I saw the mold growing, it was in the laundry. It was on the fire extinguishers. It was on the air vents, light fixtures, and the ceiling. The whole scenario reversed. My home is the impetus of ills, and I’d be better off going to work—such a switch. I’d had trouble with the air quality at work years ago. I’d even had to leave a job I loved and placed in something deep in the hole of flunky with no hope of ever crawling out.
Five Crows. So here we were in February 2021. Crows can be a blessing or a curse. One lore against another. Like the power line shadows shifting on the road. The one I hold is crows know all. It’s not that they are an omen, but they have good or bad news and are here to tell. I can count five, sometimes seven at any time, but the clouds always lend brilliant color. I’m thinking just about the color. We’ll see what happens next. I’m just not sure where to stop county crows.