Blue Bird of Happiness

"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves."
-Henry David Thoreau

Upon the railing outside our apartment window there rests a bank of powder, fresh from this afternoon's tumble down of snow. Still visible are two deep grooves from a short time ago: the most unexpected sight of a blue bird had caught my eye. I am not certain what wondrous type of bird he was, but he sat watching the quiet world, and occasionally my window whence I twitched the blind too sharply. I have not had opportunity to watch any bird in such a long while and this five-minute interval was splendid. He reposed about one foot's length from the window and I could see his eyes searching. I threw some crumbs in his direction; he flew away lightly and I hoped that he was observing me from a branch and would return for them.
My mother, when I told her about it, suggested that he might be lost.
"How could he be lost?" I argued. "Some birds fly across the world for the duration of the Winter weather."
"Yes, but it might be harder than you think to wake up to a snow-covered place that is supposed to be familiar. It might be easier to fly long distances without a guide than to find your way around your own town in such weather."
I conceded that she might have been right.
I could not, alas, take a photograph of either the bird or the fragile footprints he left behind, for my Spouse has current possession of the camera. Spouse is at this moment in California and says that, as ever, it is very like coming home. It is most unusual for we are not the grounded sort of people who wish to remain forever in one place. Perhaps, then, California is an exception for us.
We are, mayhap, a little lost. We need crumbs of a different kind: advice, wisdom and a little push to make up our minds. No doubt the magic enlightenment will happen for us. We shall do what we can to enjoy the meantime and prepare the path for whatever comes along.