Birdy
In my little town on a little street there’s a little Kenyan restaurant. It started with two tables in the back corner of a coffee shop and week-by-week grew table-by-table until like an African stampede in slow motion (shout out to Planet Earth) it eventually took over the store space all together. Try the chicken wings in their homemade pili pili sauce or the sweet potato peanut soup that my brother begs me to ship home to Michigan and you’ll see why.
Sure, you can still stop by to grab coffee on a Saturday morning, but you’ll do it under the watch of a safari’s worth of paper-mached and beautifully painted African animal heads mounted on the wall. I’ve been oogling over these animal heads, with little price tags beneath them, for months. For a while I’d lock eyes with the blue angry elephant in the window when I’d run by and sigh—he’s pretty, I want him. A month or two later I’d pass my obsession onto the kangaroo with a friendly smirk and peppy ears—he’s cute, I need him! Let’s get real, I love them all. Except for the bugs. They’re nasty.
B, the voice of all reason, carefully reshaped (without popping) my dream bubble and suggested that the animal head purchase be put off until there’s a place to mount it. A place as in a new place. With him. And me. Together.
!
It’s been an idea that’s moved across our world with the slow motion stampede speed of the Kenyan restaurant take-over. We let the thought sweep through like a breeze; waited and discussed it while the animals congregated; and weighed out all the changes and options it would bring as the animal’s walks turned into runs. Now, though nothing has changed yet, the finalized decision feels as exciting as a full on wild sprint.
Earlier this week we grabbed dinner at the Kenyan restaurant and discussed the pros and cons of each animal head. The elephant was too angry and the kangaroo, too peppy. Nestled toward the end of the wall was a colorful and metallic feathered bird with bulging black eyes and a sharp yellow beak. He was perfect, I had to have him. B agreed, but most importantly, so did the timing.
Welcome little friend; there’s no habitat for you just yet, but very soon there will be.
Sure, you can still stop by to grab coffee on a Saturday morning, but you’ll do it under the watch of a safari’s worth of paper-mached and beautifully painted African animal heads mounted on the wall. I’ve been oogling over these animal heads, with little price tags beneath them, for months. For a while I’d lock eyes with the blue angry elephant in the window when I’d run by and sigh—he’s pretty, I want him. A month or two later I’d pass my obsession onto the kangaroo with a friendly smirk and peppy ears—he’s cute, I need him! Let’s get real, I love them all. Except for the bugs. They’re nasty.
B, the voice of all reason, carefully reshaped (without popping) my dream bubble and suggested that the animal head purchase be put off until there’s a place to mount it. A place as in a new place. With him. And me. Together.
!
It’s been an idea that’s moved across our world with the slow motion stampede speed of the Kenyan restaurant take-over. We let the thought sweep through like a breeze; waited and discussed it while the animals congregated; and weighed out all the changes and options it would bring as the animal’s walks turned into runs. Now, though nothing has changed yet, the finalized decision feels as exciting as a full on wild sprint.
Earlier this week we grabbed dinner at the Kenyan restaurant and discussed the pros and cons of each animal head. The elephant was too angry and the kangaroo, too peppy. Nestled toward the end of the wall was a colorful and metallic feathered bird with bulging black eyes and a sharp yellow beak. He was perfect, I had to have him. B agreed, but most importantly, so did the timing.
Welcome little friend; there’s no habitat for you just yet, but very soon there will be.
