The Slow-Cooked Sentence

Unlike Monday

Rachael Conlin Levy

On a day when eyes snapped open and first words were clipped with impatience, on a day unlike Monday because there was no time for goodbye kisses or best wishes, there came a knock at the door. I opened it and there was Marcel, whom I am certain left ten minutes earlier grateful that he could close the door on the chaos that life sometimes dumps on us before we have even showered. He gestured to come outside, so I stepped onto the front steps in bathrobe and slippers. Listen, he said as I shut the door, and so I did. At first there was only the sound of the fight continuing inside, then I could make out the noise from a garbage truck in the alley, and as my ears adjusted to the silence, I picked up the cheeps and chirrups of birds. Finally, I heard what he was listening to: a long and high two-toned whistle, swinging back and forth, high and low. There it was again. It’s the chickadee, he said, and then tried to kiss away a smile that snuggled into the corner of my mouth, but I kept it for the entire day.

9 responses to “Unlike Monday”

  1. Linda/Mom says:

    What sweetness! I imagine that little smile, turning up the corners of your mouth, making everything taste better all day long.

  2. Bridget says:


  3. kyndale says:

    That’s so sweet Rachael.

  4. Rachael says:

    Shucks, ladies, you are too nice!

  5. Molly says:

    Awww, that made me smile too.

  6. Beth says:

    The important gifts usually arrive at the most inconvenient times, don’t they? And just when we need them the most.

  7. Anna Emilia says:

    So pretty moment to remember. Thank you for telling it to me too.

    Spring birds, they sing more and more here too, even we are still covered in snow blankets.

    Happy new week.

  8. […] finches, bushtits, juncos and chickadees seem to have left, disappearing after the blossoms dropped from the apple and the pear trees. Now […]

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