Do you ever feel like your standing on the edge of earth but you can’t decide wether you should spread your wings and fly or just scream? This is how I have felt all summer.
There are days when I swear I can feel something out there trying to pull me in. I have no idea what or maybe who. It’s just this heavy knotted up something sitting just within my chest. Just sitting there heavy as can be and barely tugging. And it’s so exhausting. Trying to figure out what in the hell it means.
Then there are days I could just curl up in a ball and cry. Sleep and cry. All curled up. With my super thick blanket as my armor against whatever hell the world wants to throw at me that day.
Occasionally there are those days that just whirl by like the wind blew me in circles leaving me dazed and confused.
Not all days are bad or sideways. There are days of happiness, joy and laughter ribboned and twisted throughout all the others.
And still I come back to days of standing on the edge of the earth. I find myself more and more asking all the what’s and why’s of life. Sometimes I think I am really in this world all alone, it’s spinning and spinning and everyone else took the leap, and are now soaring to new heights. And here I stand. Trying to make sense of it all. Wandering. Dreaming. Wishing. But never able to fly.
The days only seem to go by faster, never slowing down. Never allowing time to take a breath and re center ones self. Constantly in motion. So I stand and scream. And no one listens.
The sun slowly rose over a warm blanket of green grass just as the last morning dew fell slowly down the edge of a burning red day lilly.
Today is the day.
The young fledgling looked over the edge of the nest, toward the ground. Then she turned and looked back at Momma Sparrow. With a faint in her heart and a tear in her eye, Momma Sparrow gave the alert. It’s your time. You are prepared for your new journey. I believe in you.
With a call of acknowledgement and love the fledgling, Birdie, hopped on the edge. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and jumped. She felt the drop and for a brief moment forgot to catch the wind. Quickly she opened her eyes, raised her head and spread her wings. She climbed and climbed racing toward the rising sun. She twisted and turned, rose and dipped with each change of the wind. Before long she was soaring high in the morning sky.
Back at the nest high in an old Weeping Willow tree, Momma Sparrow watched proudly as her little Birdie flew free. With each pass a tear rose in her heart. With each tear blew a memory of love through her feathers.
Birdie landed high atop an old Oak tree. As she caught her breath she glanced back at the old Willow tree. At that moment, she knew. She was free. Free to be Birdie as Birdie was meant to be. And while Birdie will spread her wings and fly, she will pass over that old Weeping Willow tree every morning just as the sun rises over a warm blanket of green grass and the last of the morning dew falls slowly down the edge of a burning red day lilly.