Beneath the wide limbs of red maple, the breeze flitted my thinning hair. Above, a nest of birds. The adults flew in and out, feeding the mouths of their hungry youngsters. I didn’t know shit about birds, but for some reason the action made me hopeful. Maybe something about rebirth and all that shit.

He arrived late in his big white Ford, reminding me of my mother, sitting low, his head barely above the steering wheel.

He opened the door and climbed out wearing his blue ball cap with MARINES stitched in yellow thread across the crown.

He said, “Sorry, the tests and the doc ran late.”

I said, “Prognosis?”

He shrugged, smiled and turned to enter the restaurant.

As we sat, he announced, “I’m buying.”

Wasn’t something he normally offered but I didn’t rib him about it like I usually would.

He ordered a cheeseburger and so did I.

We sat next to a big window that exposed a piece of weed-choked lawn. Dandelion, ragweed.

The food arrived and the fries were greasy.

We didn’t talk much: the weather, how my drive had been, what I planned for the near future.

After I told him I thought I’d head south, I asked his plans. He grinned.

A loud bang and we both ducked. I looked out the window but didn’t see what had made the sound. A waiter noticed our reactions and said, “Oh, it’s probably a robin. They think they can fly through that window.”

Outside, we shook hands, but my insides felt full of grenades.

A helicopter flew over and instead of looking at him I watched it whop whop east and for a moment the two of us were back in Nam and then we weren’t.

He yanked a pack of Marlboros from his shirt pocket and pulled a smoke out with his lips, lit it with one of those flip-top steel lighters with the red and orange logo of the 26th Marines.

I almost said, “Is that a good idea?” but then figured he’d say, “It’s too late.”

He said, “See you when I’m looking at you.”

As he walked to his white Ford, I turned away.

In the red maple a roost full of nestlings chirped.

A big crow strutted across the parking lot. It squawked and complained and inspected a piece of trash. Suddenly, it lifted off and flew into the red maple and—well, shit, I couldn’t see it, but I heard it. All those noisy young bird chirps turned to frantic screams, turned to screeches and cheeps and then one by one, they turned to nothing.