Lola and Crow

Lola came to me at a time when life was stable. Or so I thought.

From the beginning, Crow was there.

Every time we stepped into the yard, Crow would arrive—from nowhere, it seemed—and settle on the fence near the garden.

Watching.

On our walks through the neighborhood, along the hills and through the park, Crow followed. Sometimes flying. Sometimes hopping along behind us. Always there.

In the spring, she brought her young. Tentative at first. Then closer. They drank from the hose while I watered the garden.

Lola never chased them.

At the time, I didn’t question it. It simply was. Looking back, I think she knew. Lola was in training. She was learning how to walk beside me through whatever came next.

And Crow was there to show her the way.

Now, as I write, Lola is here beside me. At my feet.

An old woman. She no longer rushes toward everything she sees. She chooses her steps more carefully. She knows what matters.

Another transition is in the air. I hope not too close. For now, we walk.