My Morning Bird Song

By Áine Greaney

PROMPT — Who am I today?

This morning, I’m writing in my journal when I hear that bird chit-chit-chit from somewhere beyond or behind my rental room on Cape Cod.

Once, someone told me about a gizmo or a phone app that identifies birds by their sound and song. I don’t “do” phone apps with my back-garden coffee and, even if I did, how would a species name or identity make this chit-chit-chit better? Sweeter?

Naming and loving. They’re not the same thing.

Over the years, I’ve had a gazillion identifiers. I’ve been Alien Resident Number 123 (or some other number) and Social Security Number (XXX-45-2222). Flight Passenger Number XYZ. Employee Number 785. Bank Customer (whatever). Graduate School Applicant (whatever again). Library Patron (8 digits here).

A few days ago, I, Employee Number 785, received a signed, employee separation letter. And yes, that letter has its own number—and it’s converted me into Job Applicant Number 566.

Now, in my numbered job applications, they codify me by what I am and by what I’m not (e.g., not a U.S. veteran).

Somewhere down on the beach-bound road, a different bird bak-baks. In this garden, in those trees before this and the neighbor's house, another bird bak-baks back. I stop writing to listen to their call-and-response.

Just like the bird songs, each of our stories is unique. One story cannot replace, cannot be mistaken for another. But our alpha and numeric identifiers are less prone to errors or misidentification or fraud. Plus: Stories just take too long. Yawn.

Still, as I sit here with my journal and morning coffee, how could anyone identify or confuse me for anybody but a midlife woman listening to the morning birds?

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Áine Greaney is an Irish-born author living on Boston's North Shore. Her work has appeared in various publications, and she leads wellness and creative writing workshops in the community.