I was missing daddy too. Grief has a way of doing that to you. You start out by missing your dog and then burst into tears and pretty soon you are thinking about your father....and that brings more tears.
On Sunday I was in the kitchen when I saw the first hummingbird of the season flit by our window. As I ran to the door to the garage, I was thinking, "I've gotta call daddy!"
In the 3 seconds it took my hand to hit the doorknob, I remembered that I couldn't call him. I took a breath and kept moving, filling the feeders and putting them out. The little hummer was oblivious to the emotions I was feeling. Giddy and sad.....how weird is that. The thing is that daddy and I always played the "who has the first hummingbird visit...." Last year I won. I think I would have won this year too....
I didn't try to photograph the little guy, he was beautiful though. A ruby throat-ed male scout, fully colored up. I'm sure he was a return visitor as he knew where to look for feeders.
After I filled the feeders and set them out, I texted my sisters and brother what I usually call my dad and say. It was stupid but I didn't have anyone else to tell. The hummingbird game was a big part of my day twice a year. The first sighting, and the last. Although my siblings enjoy hummingbirds, they aren't enamored with them like my father and I. It was "our thing."
So daddy, I'm toasting you to a wonderful season of hummingbird watching!