Move and Lose the Greater Truth

Pack and Lose the Greater Truth We’re moving all right, to my beloved state of Connecticut. Just where I always fancied myself. in a sweet cottage with skylights letting heaven in. Our home sits right on the side of a tree filled hill. As I pack another artifact, the greater truth comes calling ringing hands, tears wanting to smother my breath wanting to deny me my own life. Why Connecticut? Just a feeling within reach a goal attainable. We’ll be there on our hill you summoning birds the colors of which only a birder fathoms. I’ll be nearby hardly hearing chirps and the greater truth comes calling a hawk to take my innocence far away. I won’t hear the birds anymore. I only listened for you and watched fluffed feathers just to stand next to you and listen to your bird talk about habitat and this and that and young birds and mature birds whose male colors an Indian might snare for special headdress. The greater truth comes calling our home is temporary for each of us. ©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins April 26, 2005 I wrote this when my husband was dying. We moved from New Jersey to Ct. so we could be closer to our daughter and his brothers and sisters. He only lived there five months and I left soon after.