Where Did You Go, Olivia Uvalde?

by Rich Agnello

Springs and springs of soil and seed
Greeted each thirteenth of May
In a city with a college known for a “The”
It was quite the habit for the Mrs. and me!

Yet off we went each second Saturday
Of the month right after April
For we were told by a forecaster quite large and quite old
There was no more frost coming or so was foretold.

So with the seats folded down and no weather gambling to be found
A nursery was our sure destination
Where flowers and fertilizer and backs that got sore
Would greet our bedroom pillows so we need not return for more.

And sore was the word from the trunk to the deck
With baskets from the garage to the deck as well
To be filled with dirt for potting blooms not meant for rotting and
Shaking grow food on top to dwell.

We knew the habit and the habit it was
As baskets alternated with chimes
Up top near the ceiling of a front porch wide
And on the concrete floor planting boxes covered with grime.

Nothing new yet and maybe nothing to come
As watering sun and rain made their way.
Never too dry but never too wet
And moisture on just the leaves each day.

Some blooms blossomed and some just died
Like blooms from blooms before
Yet this year’s harvest of fragrance and color
Would have a phenomenal surprise in store!

We could see it out our front window the third basket from the right
Where young springling plants should be
This was not a plant not hardly I replied
And with her wings and feathers she’d definitely agree!

Right there in the middle of that hanging basket
A bird sat rocking her rump.
It was a mother bird and a robin at that
Too busy to scowl like a grump.

What is going on the Mr. asked the Mrs.
Does she not see our beautiful flowers?
Out she peeks with her enormous beak
While the flowers were crying for showers.

And our new seedling did way more that rock
We had much more in store.
Why that robin was building a nest
With walls like a cottage door!

Since a new friend deserved a new friend name
Olivia was the very best choice.
She was our niece from far away but it was quite safe to say
That young lady lacked a robin’s singing voice!

Day after day the preparations went on
And Olivia the robin was never stopping:
Gathering for the walls sitting on the egg
While perpetually rocking so the egg wasn’t dropping.

This was quite the chore in a basket so small
Eight or nine inches or so.
But there’s more to this task Olivia would say if you asked.
There’s that watering can to the left don’t you know!

Now in that can that looked like Farmer Pig—
Yep that was a nest for finches!
In and out of the spout all dang day—
Those finches could use a few pinches!

They tried to come over and visit Olivia
But she was no visiting mother.
Oh she was aware and would stare and stare
And then teach those finches a lesson like no other!

The Mrs. and I waited for days
For Olivia’s big day to come.
Yet that day seemed like it would never arrive
And mother bird’s nest would soon be undone.

We missed our blooms but somehow that spring
Our wait for the little one really mattered.
It had been a long winter and an even longer year
With family memories lost forever and scattered.

Then it came out of nowhere
And after a wait of many days
Olivia’s scavenging and rump shaking and rocking
Would show the wonder of her ways.

Olivia’s beak was very long and the baby’s so very short.
How would this little one live?
Yet beak to beak and cheek to cheek
The mother bird continued to give.

She gave with her baby under her wings
And she gave with gifts from her forest.
Well it was just flying to our weeping elm
For food with other birds supplying a chirping chorus.

And daddy bird? We saw him too
And we decided to name him Oscar.
As Olivia fed Oscar chased
Mr. Raccoon far away for he was a robin imposter!

So who was the baby? The Mrs. and I weren’t sure
If the new one was a lady or a fellow.
A girl baby robin we would name Ophelia
And a boy bird would be called Othello.

Ophelia or Othello like potato or potahtoe
It didn’t really matter much now
For it grew so fast and its feathers flowered at last
That baby bird was ready to take a bow!

A bow would come soon but flying would come first
When the Mrs. and I saw it acting like mom.
Flap them like that first slow and then fast and
Before you knew it you’ll be off to the birdy prom!

We really don’t know where Oscar met Olivia
Or if robins have such formal birdy dances
And sad to say there came that day
When there were no more robin romances.

We both looked and looked for hours on end
But neither one was in the nest.
I placed the hanging basket back in the garage
Where I saw the nest where the robins found their rest.

Another basket hangs outside now
With impatiens of purple white and red.
It’s beautiful to be sure but summer now is not quite the same.
“Where’s Olivia?” I hear it forever said.

And that question’s not the only one
As I asked the mother bird quite sadly
A last name question that also had no answer
So I gave her the last name of Uvalde…

She was here one day and gone the next
And so was her precious child.
Olivia did her mother bird job well and then
Released her child into the wild.

Ophelia or Othello or whoever the baby bird was
Went out to do the best that it could.
Is it still there is it still somewhere?
Olivia surely knew that it should.

Or could it be this that in their nature of bliss
Anything of harm is not there and
When the real world comes and life is unjust
No one is there to say what is fair.

The Mrs. and I do not know where or when or why
As a front porch sits with just chimes and flowers.
We still look for you dear mother bird and child.
These are just sounds and blooms but you are like twin towers.

Are you gone forever like the news story says
Olivia and child times nineteen
Or have you traveled far far away
To a place with thousands of miles in between?

And are you now in another hanging basket
With Othello or Ophelia now a father or mother?
And did Olivia come as a birdy granny to protect your nest
Since there will never be another?

I ask the question over and again
Though there may be no responder:
Where did you go Olivia Uvalde?
I am getting worried and there is little time to ponder.

Can you tell us very soon?
The Mrs. worries too.
Is a mother bird and child bird alive and well somewhere?
We both wish we knew.

And we surely see that summer will pass
As our chimes and blooms turn silent and grey.
All these things will join our empty nest soon
In a suburb’s garage and be put away.

This is our hope that in another year’s spring
We will know the answer to this:
Where did you go Olivia Uvalde
And do your offspring know nature’s true bliss?

Only then will we look
To the third hanging basket from the right
And say to each other and to you dear Olivia:
Thank you for letting us know stay forever safe and good night.