Stepping through the barn door, I walked carefully down the unfamiliar steps, with the purple light from a low moon as my only assistant. I turned my gaze up, into that splash of Milky Way and immediately saw one light break away from the others in a steady, slow jog. I followed it with interest for a couple of seconds and then stared in amazement as it vaulted across the night, leaving a trail that took several more moments to vaporize. A shooting star. I felt the tingle of hair rising on the back of my neck and I stood as still as I could, pushing my feet against the ground, filling my lungs with air. I turned and went back inside for our first night in the new house.
It had been a rather disjointed and frustrating morning full of trials and tears and hugs. She carried on in a determined way but I could sense her confidence starting to wane as doubt began to push its way into her thoughts. Her shy eyes shifted focus and landed on an older gentleman riding a snowboard. He was on the beginners slope, same as her. He had been a skiier for many years we heard him say, but he always wanted to try a board. "He falls down a lot," she remarked. "He laughs a lot too," I said. She giggled, "yeah". It was much easier for her after that.
The many mouths we feed wait for it to be their turn. Sometimes they are patient, other times not so much, I strive to be on time so they don't worry for being overlooked. Through countless days of repetition I learn their patterns of behavior although they still manage to surprise me quite regularly. I have come to rely on them as they rely on me. We feed each other.
I stopped in busy traffic and let some cars go through. The sound of a horn from back somewhere reminded me of being young and I turned down the radio so I could hear the town. All together, we moved like a river and I headed up Congress Street with my window open. I thought it would be cool to be a bird in the city.
