moth's bubbles

[Guest]

i am five or six, sitting at the kitchen table in front of the bay window that looks into our back yard. i'm drinking grape juice out of a hideous yellow tupperware cup with a stand on the bottom so i can't spill it. i'm alone. i am looking out the window at the enormous trees swaying in the breeze... it's early fall. i always liked this sound - creaking leafy oak trees rustling almost like the tide. and then suddenly a big black bird is flying straight at me. i am screaming, thinking it will hit me. but the glass stops it with a horrible splat. i am shaking and crying, running up the stairs to find my mother. at first she doesn't believe me, but the crow is dying below the bay window.