Springtime

Raw, discombobulated, hopeful, uncertain.  I've been vacillating between these states since recovering from the final chemotherapy rollercoaster ride of side effects almost three weeks ago now.  Physically I am quite good, albeit weak and slightly fragile, and mentally I am well enough, but part of me feels as if I'm waking from a long slumber and the world is slightly askew from when I knew it last.  As if this has been a strange, enduring dream and I'm waking from it with an altered worldview that has me questioning where to go from here.  

I'm identifying closely with the fledgling Carolina Wren chicks I was so lucky to witness, just yesterday; their wild-eyed, open-beaked squeals, their erratic, hopping/low flying eventual progress from near the birdhouse my landlords have placed in a well-protected spot, close to the house, out to the wooded area beyond the backyard fence...quite a long and arduous journey for the little guys.  Over the course of the day, I was able to witness two of the brood working their way out into the world, with the encouragement of their parents.  Mostly I watched from inside, so as not to disturb the adult birds or interfere with the process, but upon seeing the first chick, I had to go outside to investigate, as it was sitting inert for a lengthy interval, and I wanted to make sure it was alive.  It was, thankfully, and soon it was beyond the danger of the open yard. The second fledgling, however, was having a harder time finding its way and was looking thirsty, exhausted and frustrated, leaving me feeling hopeless and saddened by the harshness of nature.

The vulnerability of these chicks nearly had me in tears: hearing them call for their tribe, looking so confused as to where they found themselves and wondering where to go and how to get there.  Knowing how tentative their lives are in this moment, at the mercy of nature, had me on alert for other bird species or prowling cats, ready to intervene on their behalf to give them a chance at life outside of the nest.  Indeed, my landlord did come by later in the day to make sure the last of the chicks made it to higher ground, putting my mind and heart at ease.  This morning I could still hear the peeps of the chicks beyond the fence, and the distinct trill and singing of the adult birds, restoring a sense of peace and hope for the little creatures, as well as myself.

The beauty of this moment affected me deeply.  The newness of a thing, fresh in the world, vulnerable and at the mercy of surroundings, time and space, reminded me once again, of the preciousness of life.  Though I'm feeling much like a wounded bird momentarily, I know this too shall pass.  Next Wednesday I undergo lumpectomy surgery and am praying all goes as well as possible and that the subsequent healing process is swift.  Soon I will be able to spread my wings fully again and just possibly, take flight.