Have you ever had a (retrospective) realization that you were destined to be the person you are well before you became that person?
Apparently, I have a gift for wordplay, and have from day one.
As my mother and I were sitting outside tonight, enjoying the 70-degree, smoke-filled atmosphere that was Central Oregon, we took to a conversation about damn near everything. We discussed the world, the weather and my childhood, the latter of which concerns this post.
She mentioned how, when I was still a toddler, the whole family was watching a PBS documentary on a bird rehabilitation center in Florida. The center took care of egrets and other aviary creatures that were wounded and nursed them back to health.
Apparently, birds that were hurt but still able to fly to the place started to come there after a couple years of operation, in addition to the birds the center picked up in other ways. My mom incredulously asked my dad how the birds knew to go to this place.
Three-year-old me's answer?
"Bird of mouth."
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