There was a gaping hole in the nest—right through the center. Strong as we thought it was, the bottom dropped out. One fledgling, in the wrong place when it happened, got swept away. The other two scrambled to cling to the rim and eventually flew away. The old ones stayed for a while, but staring into the abyss where once they all felt safe and secure became too hard. They left, too. Everyone is doing okay in new nests, but it will never be like it was because we will never be like we were.
Lilly Kauffman is a non-fiction writer who was privileged to work as both librarian and a teacher. Her essays, whether serious or humorous, capture the experiences that allow us to laugh and grieve. Family and faith inform her writings. She is currently working on several book projects: A Mother Grieves in Ink, Ampersand, and Lil Letters.