As the hummingbird floats on a gentle breeze, I reach out my hand, unable to resist the promise of the merest of touches. I’m almost certain it’ll spook and fly away, but the closer my hand moves, the more it seems as though I’ve made another new friend. Considering I’m hanging upside down from a tree with a cigarette in my mouth, it’s a strange thing indeed. With its beak now inches from my fingers, it flutters before me like a dream.
“The things you see by shifting your perspective,” she says.
“Uh-huh,” I manage to reply.
“You should listen to me more often, right?”
Craning my neck, I look up at her with stars before my eyes.
“Everything in moderation,” I croak.
Rolling her eyes, she rubs the dog’s head causing him to playfully growl. It’s the area right behind his ear—a dog’s g-spot.
“Funny how whenever you do listen to me, something good comes of it. Don’t you think?”
She’s got a point, but I play it cool and act indifferent.
“Look at this hummingbird,” I say, “I’ve never seen one this close before. In fact, I don’t think ever seen one at all.”
“Don’t be stupid. It’s just that you’ve never opened your eyes to them. Much the same with most things. I do love you, you know I do, but for a writer, you’re not particularly observant.”
“I am,” I huff.
“Well, perhaps, but you look for things in all the wrong places. You need to look closer, at the overlooked. That’s where you’ll find your treasure.”
Craning my neck again, I look at her with my upper lip curled.
“Is this close enough?” I say, pointing to the tiny bird.
“Better,” she replies, “but there’s always room for improvement.”
Wiggling my fingers, I kiss my teeth with one eye on the bird and the other on the shadows dancing beneath us. Two worlds. Different, and alive. Observing them with wonder, I wish to exist equally in both.