Circle of death and life

He perched on a branch of the skeletal tree, every morning, pruning himself in the sun, making his famous hammer-metal calls.

She interpreted those as his good morning wishes to her. Being able to see him from the fourth floor window of the hospital meant she was in the general ward and therefore in better health. In his primary colors, which were the foundation of all kaleidoscopic spectrum, she saw the reflection a colorful life she lived, and thereby her soul mate, who she had lost last year to a persistent and growing tumor.

With him, she raised five kids, sung lullabies to eight grand children and pampered five great grand children. She had monumental pride in their success story.

Now, in the hospital, while her kids and grand kids were invested in the responsibilities of keeping her healthy and comfortable, she was simply bored of being alive alone. She believed the Coppersmith Barbet outside the window was her lover of 55 years who came to say hello during morning tea.

Then one day, this rampant morning affair, oblivious to everybody else, stopped. It was time for the only absolute truth of the circle of death and life to play in repeat mode.