October 25, 2021

My dearest,

Our world seems to be filled with these giant flocks of grey, city pigeons. The ones that rule the Piazza San Marco in Venice or the ones that congregate in the tiny park opposite our home (some dolt has been feeding them every evening so the pests never go away, reproducing and becoming a bigger menace with every day).

The noise and the filth. The relentless swarm. They are the backdrop and the bustle of ordinary, daily lives. They are what they are. One gets used to them.

But it’s not all grey, city pigeons.

In our garden, when the sun is out and the breeze is sweet, there is a pair of pink-necked green pigeons that come to roost. They follow each other faithfully. They feed on the crimson fruit of the palm trees; they would feed each other, if they could, I wager.

Treron vernans. Only the male of the species carries the pink neck that gives the pigeons their name. Yet both birds that we see, day after day, bear their proud pink necks. How loving. How beautiful. What grace.

They remind me of how my world was filled with grey, city pigeons until you came my way, lighting my life with your beauty and your grace. You make the backdrop and the bustle disappear; you make every ordinary day extraordinary.

You are my pink-necked green pigeon and we will follow each other faithfully, blissfully.

Yours, ever and always.