songs of experience

Every day on the way home from picking my four year-old up from pre-school, I drive by this house with pink, plastic flamingoes perched high up in a tree. Of course, I am curious about the owner … is he gay or merely eccentric? I’ve heard that a pink flamingo in someone’s yard is code for, uh, how shall I say it? A Brokeback Mountain fan? Anyway, its none of my business what someone’s sexual orinetation is; I’m just curious about the birds.
I usually slow down and sort of crane my neck while driving by. Anybody home?! For months I saw no sign of life. Probably someone who works 9-5:00, I thought, who wouldn’t be home in the middle of the day. Actually, nobody’s home in the middle of the day anymore. When I made the decision to quit my coaching work and stay home full-time I thought I’d be spending my days outside in a neighborhood full of children - chatting and sharing the (long!) days with other moms, but stay-at-home moms don’t stay at home; they drive. And drive and drive, hither and yon! (I love that expression), to playdates, pre-school, music classes, sports activities, birthday parties, Target, Costco … anywhere but home. Neighborhoods in America become ghost towns between 9:00am & 5:00pm … and I’m scared of ghosts!
So, you can imagine my surprise when I finally DID see someone home at Flamingo House at 12:00noon on a week-day.
I saw the screen door swing open and a slender man on crutches slowly made his way to the mailbox. He was wearing a pink shirt (for real) and only had one leg. One very long, skinny leg and I thought, “Why, that’s it! That’s why he has those symbollic flamingoes up in his tree. One leg or no, they’re fixin’ to fly!!”

When I drove away I prayed, “Thank-you, God, for my two running legs.” I can fly too.