How beautiful, even in death…

I once read a Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin finds a dead bird outside of his home. The bird was drawn so starkly and beautifully, ink on a pure white background, that the bird almost looked like it was sleeping.

Today, I sat on the steps of our deck, next to the small, lifeless body of a bird just like the one in the comic strip. No doubt it had tried to fly straight through our house, unknowingly crashing into our large window and plummeting to its death.

I sat looking at the bird, and thought – how beautiful, that even in death, its wings are folded just so, its eyes closed, feet tucked neatly into its body.

When I die, what will I look like?

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