During a deep tissue massage today, and as the therapist walked along my spine, I remembered these pictures I had taken at Easter. I'm impressed I could think at all. Breathing was nearly impossible. I usually go for the fluff spa kind of massages with lovely smelling oils and warm towels. This one today, though painful and bruising, helped free up some spasms that I have had since yoga class on Saturday.

I'm not sure what triggered these memories. My therapist has her own theories. Earlier this spring as I sat out on the deck chair reading, a little hummingbird would excitedly hover over my chair. I didn't pay too much attention to it but after the third day I decided to investigate closer. I found a lovely little nest with two eggs the size of Cadbury mini eggs. The perfection of the nest and the beauty of the little eggs impressed me. A few days later, I wanted to share with my daughter this little wonder. Unfortunately what we discovered is now documented in the photos. I wondered if a cat or larger bird had played havoc with the nest. And there on the ground were the broken eggs but clearly more than an egg.

At that time I thought a lot about motherhood. How sometimes things don't go as planned.Infants die. They are sick or handicapped. They turn into Charles Manson. (I know it's a bit dramatic but they are my thoughts). I wondered if that little hummingbird started all over again. Or if she gave up. Not daring the risk.

Maybe the masseuse is right. Maybe that little hummingbird was coming across the veil trying to teach me something. I wish I had paid more attention.