The monkeys are brave these days, hungry. I come home to find two of them sitting outside my door, watching me as they peel the bananas I had just bought, the ones that were to become banana bread this afternoon. I throw a ball at one of the monkeys. He barely flinches. Takes another bite of my banana, saunters onto the roof. Whose to say I’m not the intruder here.
The girls have created a skateboard game that involves levels of difficulty, one girl spread out on the floor, the others trying to maneuver around her. They cheer for each other, cry when their fingers get rolled over, fall and shriek and laugh. I swallow my warnings, try not to watch.
A common bulbul has built a nest in the hibiscus bush by our porch. I am talking with a friend, sharing parenting sorrows and wiping away tears, when she sees the babies, two small heads with beaks wide open, a wriggling bug hanging from the mama’s mouth (I recognize her as another mother doing her best). She flies away and the small feathery shapes duck down, disappear, waiting.