Rosella


I watched the resplendent rosella with inexplicably emotional delight. Then the explanation came to me – I was feeling not just my own appreciation of its colourful plumage but somehow I was channelling the joy I knew my father would feel if he stood beside me. And in that moment, he stood beside me. The decades of time and the miles of distance and the ravages of his Parkinson’s disease all fell away in a real and imagined moment of mutual connection. The rosella cocked its head, lifted a wing, nibbled its puffed out chest for a moment, then fluttered off, and my father disappeared. Suddenly he was worlds and light years away again. Tantalising glimpses and bird calls remained. That’s all.

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About dreapadoir

Emergency Physician, author of http://underneathEM.com Emergency Medicine blog, photographer at http://www.dreapadoir.com
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