Monday, July 27, 2015

Bird

Last night the girls were asleep in bed. Eric was in the studio working on a piece. I went to our living room to sit and think. Do you sit and think? Motherhood has left me with less time to think the thoughts in my head. Much of my daily thought is allocated to logistics: food,  shelter, bills, play, projects, homeschool, doctor's appointments, laundry, cleaning, etc. My evenings are reserved for work on an art piece or online teaching. I find that I am left with little time to just think. Yet I crave it, moments to myself to reflect, have new ideas, to wonder. 

So last night I settled on the couch. The sun had set and the light was dim. I put my phone to the side, face down and sound off so I wouldn't be distracted or tempted. I sat there in the darkening dusk and had my thoughts. I made some progress in different road blocks in art that I have been needing to mull over. I was struggling with one particular art related concept and feeling frustrated. I began to think about animals.

Then I heard the tell-tale thunk. A little ting coupled with a thud. The sound of a bird hitting our big front windows. The first year in our home I realized there was an issue with birds and this window. I have a bunch of stuff hanging from the pane. A sign that reads "Happy," several green glass stars all suspended at different heights to keep birds from flying into the glass. We haven't had any deaths yet, mostly because there are trees that keep the birds from coming in at top speed. This thunk was different, harder. I assumed that I would look out the window and see the lifeless body of a sparrow.

(Not my photo.)


I peered over the back of the couch and out the window. There is a large evergreen bush right below our window. Laying on top of the bush, with one wing splayed out was a robin. I immediately thought of the robin (robins?) who always hop into the spray of water as I use the sprinkler in the garden, never coming too close. This moment was different, not playful. Her bright black  eyes shining in the low light. I froze, watching, waiting to see if she was truly injured or just stunned. She saw me. We stared at each other, something passed between us. I can't say what it was exactly. Of course on her side the feeling may have just been terror and confusion, but for me there was something important about this encounter that seemed to be connected to the thoughts I had been mulling over seconds before her impact. I felt something powerful pass between us as we sat there frozen, considering each other.

Then she folded her wing. I let out the breath that I had been holding. We sat there for another moment, looking at eachother. Then she flew off and landed on the lowest branch of the cottonwood tree that lives out front. She looked at me again and then hopped a bit deeper into the green leaves of the tree. 

2 comments:

Marie Roxanne said...

There is a connection between animals and humans.
I am sure you will treasure this one as a connection between species created by the Almighty God.
Not everyone can experience this.

elizabeth said...

i get this - the need for time to just think about things that aren't logistics.
and when i get those moments, i work to savor them.
i had some of this time the past few days as i was painting one of the bathrooms in our new place. i also think when i am mowing the lawn . . .

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