For years I have been trying to eat 12 different slices of cake between Christmas and New Year's Day wishing that, if I do, the Old Wives' Tale about love entering my life would come true.
I do not know if I had 12 slices this past holiday season. I know I tried.
But what I do know is that, at the morning crack of New Year's Day, I heard a soprano song round and round my house and a persistent rap pecking on my windows and doors.
I opened up the house and went outside, but saw no one.
I picked up The Gleaner from the driveway and sat on the verandah reading it.
A hour, or so later, I walked inside to the kitchen to brew my morning coffee, without which I cannot start the day.
To my surprise, a stranger was in the kitchen. It was, obviously, my morning visitor for, as I entered, the soprano voice greeted me. It was warm. Like a flute.
Old-fashioned
But, as beautiful as the voice was, I was a bit wary. I did not know this stranger, and had not invited her into my home.
And, being a bit old-fashioned, I was not prepared, without an introduction, to share a meal with one I did not know.
So, I opened the door and guided her outside. Firmly, but politely.
During the day, I heard the soprano voice at times in my garden. I decided to ignore this persistence by watching television for a while and then reading a number of articles in magazines I had allowed to accumulate.
At about noon, my visitor seemed to have left and I went out to visit friends.
Return
I came home in the late afternoon. My morning visitor had not returned and I wondered briefly if I had just been a passing fancy. The outrageous flirt!
Just before dark, I heard the soprano in my kitchen again. How she sneaked past me I did not know.
But, before I could say or do anything, she rushed out and went down the passage to my bedroom.
I ran behind her. She spun around and returned down the passage and, I assumed, outside the house.
I decided to ring a few of my mischievous friends to see if any had brought this visitor to my home. They all denied it, but, when they heard my description, they all expressed an anxious desire to visit me.
Gently, I dissuaded them. For, would you believe that while I was talking to them, this new-found friend came as if from nowhere and rested lightly on my shoulder.
This was irresistible. What else could I do?
Jealous
I am a grown man. There is no other current passion in my life to create any complications. No one with a key who can come to my home unannounced, then storm out in a rage at the sight of a new live-in.
I am a little jealous, however, for I do not know where my visitor spends the nights. Maybe one day, however, she will decide to stay - all day and all night.
What I do know is that I do not need my radio alarm clock to awaken me anymore.
Every morning before the sun lifts its head over the horizon I hear the soprano singing round my home. And it is beautiful.
And, as I listen, I hear the rap of her beak on the doors and windows until she knows I am awake.
I open the windows and doors my house and sit on the verandah and watch her flitting from rose to rose and to the other flowers in my garden, sipping the dew from the petals.
And another beautiful day begins. Good morning my new and pretty little live-in.
Hartley Neita
