Nesting

 

Even as a small child I liked to gather all my blankets and pillows around me and make a comfy nest. I remember making a nest behind the couch while my parents played cards with the neighbors late into the evening. I would fall asleep back there listening to the laughter and the clicks of the cards. Later my friend Colleen and I would make a huge nest in her clawfoot bathtub. We’d spend long afternoons reading Stephen King novels and eating snacks her mom delivered. It didn’t matter where I went, I always managed to make a little nest for myself to curl up and feel safe. My husband recently found a small, abandoned robin’s nest with one tiny blue egg inside. He brought it to me as a gift. I keep it under glass and it reminds me of all the nests in my life.

When I became a homeowner for the first time, I bought cuddly blankets for the sofas and chairs. Even if it’s warm outside it feels good to be covered with the softest of knits. Years ago, I had a dear friend in hospice care. I brought her a bright yellow faux fur blanket and made a nest for her on her bed. As I rubbed her feet, her hands caressed the blanket and she said she felt this is what heaven would be like. I tearfully agreed. Heaven is probably just that, a safe nest.

 

Last week the nest of our home emptied for the very first time in our married life. Zoe has settled in Minneapolis; Jack bought a home in St. Cloud and Ben moved back to Mankato for his last year of college. It feels odd to go from room to room and realize the empty space they filled with their noise and belongings. As they go out in the world, I hope they know that there will always be a warm blanket and a hug waiting for them in their nest here at home. Peace to you. Sandy

Snowwolfs Woodland
Nook
She is building a nest my
darling,
In the stubble, brittle and
brown,
She is gathering shreds
and silken threads;
And wisps of wool and
down,
With her silver throat
and speckled coat,
And eyes so bright and
brown.
Oh, and it is joy to see
her make
And line her nest for
sweet love’s sake,
With shreds of wool and
down
With her eyes so bright
and brown.
by Alice Cary