读者文摘港版杂志在线阅读
In our marriage, we learned that to nourish love
Feed the Birds
---文章选自读者文摘港版杂志
MY HuSBAND was no longer the man I had married. He had become grumpy and short-tempered. He works in publishing, an industry that has its own share of problems. A self-made man, he worries that our sons have been handed too much. Our marriage was facing the familiar strains of midlife. All of this was getting him down.
Until he installed the bird feeder.
"But that's so messy," I said. In Mumbai, India, where we live, apartments are tiny. And while we have a little verandah, we do not have birds, and I did not see the point of putting up a bird feeder on our small space to feed non-existent creatures.
To try to feed birds in a city that's rife with starvation and poverty also seemed too privileged a notion.
"We live in India," I reminded him.
"Birds belong to the world," he replied. And that was that.
So up it went, an ugly contraption he bought online. It was transparent, cylindrical and odd-looking. It was filled with grain and I watched skeptically as it stood solitary and defiant on our verandah in a city where I neither saw birds fly nor come to roost.
Our lives were busy. We worked hard. We spoke less. We watched too much television. We spent many evenings answering emails and texts. Our sons were grown-up and had their own lives. We had ours.
husband's eye over the newspaper. He was signalling to me in an animated One lonely morning in a long succession of lonely mornings, I caught my fashion, pointing to our verandah.
the ledge of the bird feeder. The parrot cocked his head. We cocked ours. The Iturned. And there it was: a bright green parrot with a red beak perched on parrot studied us. We studied him. And then he settled down and dug in, I glanced at my husband. He beamed in response.
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