1% Better (First Aid for All Birds)

I hung some pictures yesterday. I popped the balloons that have plagued our ankles since Valentine’s Day. I found the sign that used to hang across a pair of hand-knitted scarves (knitted by a relative), the Open/Closed sign for the living room restaurant, which I secretly kind of miss. It went away somewhat naturally, with it the legions of plastic forks and hotdogs and notebooks, which immediately made me happier (obviously). But I miss those Saturday mornings when the kids would set up the restaurant, silently stocking fake food and straightening fake knives. The stagehands bustled continuously behind the curtain at the theater while Tim and I waited for the show to begin.