One of These Things

I dragged myself out of bed this morning to walk with friends, a task that grows more difficult with each minute of daylight lost. The pre-dawn air was cool and the critters were up and scurrying about with leaves, nuts, or other critters in their mouths. We walked briskly with the soundtrack of robin's chirrups and hawk screes playing in the background, a few yellow leaves punctuating the smooth grass of the greenbelt.

In my last stretch past the tennis courts I looked up to see three raggedy crows perched on the high link fence. They bobbed and weaved awkwardly and I chuckled as I looked down the line - until my gaze fell upon a hawk at the far end, serene and vaguely threatening as he looked down his hooked beak at his neighbors. I did a double-take; though we hear hawks frequently in our neighborhood we don't see them so close. The raptor didn't fit in with his ungainly, feather-dropping neighbors and I was reminded of the old Sesame Street skit "one of these things is not like the other." I've been feeling like the "other thing" this week, though more like a crow than a  hawk.

Granted, we were all exhausted from camping and preoccupied with back-to-school shopping and preparation, but that's still no excuse for a missed doctor's appointment (still had to pay the full charge), my double-booking of activities throughout elementary school registration, and my countless cooking mistakes this week. I set the barbecue on fire, pulled the brownie pan out with my bare hand (not successfully), and tossed the salad vigorously right onto the floor. I feel out of place with my organized neighbors who have their registration forms signed and ready, with their calendar reflecting the appropriate check-in time. I hope that my brain and organization skills return when the children head off to school next week but there are no guarantees.