Abandonment Complex

One time when I was about three or four years old, I was walking along the street with my family looking in the store windows, when suddenly I was alone. No family, no one I knew. I don’t remember much about this time. I must have been picked up by a friendly policeman. I remember being in the police station on a tall stool and being handed a chocolate bar, perhaps to stop me from crying. I was too small to drive a car, to buy food, to cook, to bath myself. What could I do without my family? My Dad eventually showed up and took me home.
This incident has affected my whole life as well as the lives of others. I don’t recall this thought at the time but I must have thought that I was not good enough to be a part of my family, because I have always felt an abnormal need to please others. I have reconstructed the time directly following that incident by asking other members of my family about it. I am quite sure that if anyone was worried about me they didn’t allow me to know about it. They said, "Oh you and your brother were always getting lost. You probably just wanted those chocolate bars." (Eating chocolate always makes me feel apprehensive.) I belive that nothing was said like, “We were so worried about you. We love you so much. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you.
I have decided to host my own welcome home party for myself. The only people invited will be my dog and my cat and my imaginary little self. That little self that still doesn’t understand that she doesn’t have to be perfect to be acceptable. First I will welcome her home and tell her all the things I needed to hear, but never heard:
“You are so precious to me. I love you so much. It was an accident leaving you there. I didn’t mean to leave you all alone. Welcome home. Are you hungry? What would you like to eat? I’m so glad that I found you. I’m glad that you are alright. I was so worried about you!”
Then I will take her into my arms and hug her and not let her go until she says, “Mommy please let me go.” Then I will know that she is alright. We will have a nice day and she will always know how precious she was.

Crow Street

One September day as I came out of my house, I noticed ten or fifteen crows congregating on the street. This is a pretty amazing sight, these big black birds strutting around the street, talking to each other in their loud raucous voices. My yellow lab and I were going for a walk. I held onto him closely as we went out to the sidewalk and up the street under the little maples. Then the inevitable happened, a car drove up the street. The birds all flew up into the trees on the other side of the street. All except for one. That one flew into the maple tree above our heads. I looked up and saw him looking down at us. I looked at him and he looked at me. Meanwhile the birds across the street were getting restless. Talking back and forth to each other. Finally I said quietly to the bird above our heads, “you can go now” and he flew off to join the rest of the crows. Then they all left, flying over our heads to join a larger group of crows in the tall trees across the alley. All during our walk and a for while afterwards I noticed the tree tops were full of crows. They were flying everywhere as if making some momentous plans. Then they were gone. I wonder where they all went. Do crows migrate? I’ve seen a few but not many since that day.

Back Yard

It is fall again. This morning as I walked out into the back yard I noticed a squirrel about five feet from my cat, Silver. The squirrel was searching for a place to bury some odd looking thing that it was carrying. Silver (with her newly acquired silver bell which announces her presence wherever she goes) was watching the squirrel with the same fascination that I was. The squirrel finally found the perfect location, dug for a while and placed the object in the hole, buried it, and left. Soon, another squirrel came from another location to unbury the object and took off up the choke cherry tree. Then a flock of starlings came and settled on the grape vine which covers the wall of the garage to feed on the wild grapes that were abundant this year. The movement in the patch of wild sunflowers drew my attention to the small yellow canary like birds that were feeding on the sunflowers. Then my ears came alive to the symphony of bird songs that was playing to the beat of the gentle rain falling upon the leaves of the trees, and the wing beats of the silent crows as they flew from tree to tree way up above. Then the tinkle of the small silver bell as my kitty ran out into the yard to take it all in. Apparently, the wildlife doesn’t regard her as a threat any more since they can hear her whenever she moves. The symphony continued until, as I walked out to deposit seeds on the hearth at the opposite end of the yard, all birds became airborne; the symphony became the quiet whisper of wings. I waited for a moment, my bare feet rooted to cool grass, after depositing the seeds, to see if the birds would return. Return they did, eyeing me, yet wanting to take full advantage of the morning and of the feeding ground that has been allowed to grow for a time such as this.

The Luckiest Dog in the World

He didn’t start out so lucky; he was a back yard dog. He would get loose sometimes and one day the mailman who loved dogs, who just happened to be my husband, brought him home. His name was Lucky. He was an expensive looking yellow lab; we couldn’t keep him so I took him back, and he went back to being a backyard dog. Then one day he disappeared from that backyard and reappeared in some kind hearted old man’s front yard. He was loose yet he didn’t seem inclined to go back home. The mailman who loved dogs brought him home again. This time for keeps. He changed his name to Buddy. Now the mailman is gone; all his other dogs are gone too. Buddy is an old dog now, at least in years. But his step is young. Every day he plays fetch on a grassy field near where we live. He fetches until he is panting hard. Then he allows me to come home. He won’t let me skip a single day. He does it all for me; he believes that I love to play fetch. But I know the truth: he is the luckiest dog in the world.

The Crow

I often take my dog over to a grassy area shaded by large trees to play fetch. Once while we were there I noticed a flock of crows flying together from tree to tree. They would sit and talk for a while then go to another tree. Then as if a decision had finally been made they all flew off in the same direction. I noticed that two crows were still in one of the trees. They “chatted” back and forth for a while then one flew off in the same direction as the others, leaving the other one alone. It sat on the branch the whole time we were there. I wondered why it was just sitting there.

I remembered once seeing some smaller birds harassing a crow, I assumed, to get it to leave their nesting area. At another time, with another dog that I sometimes walked in that same area with, the crows would dive down at him whenever we appeared. I’m not sure, but I believe that this was not a friendly gesture on their part. Quite often crows are seen all alone. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder what made this crow stay there separated from its clan. I was concerned that it was injured. Then as I was about to leave it swooped down gracefully and headed off in the same direction the other crows had taken.

Why did it stay there? Had it had an argument with the rest of the crows? Was it angry, or sad about something? Did it just need to be alone for a while? Whatever was the reason, it had triggered something deep within me that I call my separation complex.

The Squirrel

I was sitting on my couch eating my customary supper, a huge salad, when I noticed my squirrel friend watching me. He sat and watched me for a little while. Then he climbed down the post and immediately came back with some elm seeds which he munched on. Every once in a while he would go back down the post to get himself some more seeds. Then would sit there eating them, pensively looking at me. It seemed to me as if we were sharing a peaceful meal together.

When I was finished I noticed that he was still going down to get seeds and eating them. I thought that his food wasn’t concentrated enough for him so I took some hulled sunflower and pumpkin seeds out and left them for him on his post. Soon he and all of his many relatives were quarreling over those seeds. I figured I could have fed all of his relatives but then would it be good for them to have such an easy source of calories? I reasoned that it probably wouldn’t be; it’s not so good for us, after all. I decided to get him some “critter food” next time I go to the grocery store.

Ants

Have you ever noticed the little tiny ants that swarm to the surface of the earth like fishes coming up from the depths of the sea. They come up in one location; then in another and another, as if it really doesn’t matter to them where they come up. Unless the earth is everywhere just underneath the surface, teaming with these little brown creatures, they must be able to move through the earth almost as easily as fish move through water.

And why do they come up to the surface? To fill their livers with vitamin D (do ants have livers?) To get fresh air? They don’t seem to eat any of the plants so it can’t be to get fresh vegetation. Until someone enlightens me on this subject, it will remain a mystery to me.