Description

Immediate dispatch from Somerset. Nice book in great condition. Pages in excellent condition. No notes or highlighting. See images. Fantastic book.

About the book >.>.> One Thanksgiving dinner someone called it “the bird” one too many times and with that my Mom stopped eating meat. For years – decades really – we humoured her. Mused over her sentimentalism. Recounted her cuteness in entertaining stories about her sensationally soft-headed excesses. Dismissed her choices as irrelevant to us. And most of all laughed. Remember the time she performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on the drowned dragonfly? Remember when she fed rats on the picnic table outside her dining room window so they wouldn’t come inside the house? Remember how she put extra food and water out for the mice in her house when she went on holiday so they wouldn’t go hungry while she was away? And how when she caught those mice in a live trap and brought them outside she was careful not to take them too far for fear they might get lost? Remember how every time she pulled up a weed she said “I’m sorry.” Why has it taken me so long to understand my mother’s wisdom? To see how far ahead of us she was? How is it that I animal lover as I have always considered myself to be was able year after year – to give Thanks by reaching inside a slaughtered being without giving so much as one thought to what “its” life (and death) had meant to “it”? As I pulled out all those delicate organs I didn’t let my mind go back to the time when each one of these tiny miracles played its deft part in mediating life for this majesty of a bird. Until that one awful moment when some cold hand ripped apart this creature’s whole little world held up its limp and broken body and stuffed it with its own mangled bits and pieces like some unspeakable desecration. (LL)