Last year, while six months pregnant and preparing for a housewarming party, I came across a mother bird nesting in the rhododendron off the deck outside of my kitchen window.
Day after day I would watch her sitting vigil over her eggs, warming them, keeping them safe, and anxiously awaiting the arrival of her little ones. We were so different, this little bird and me, and yet so much the same in our journey towards motherhood. About a month or so later, the little ones hatched.
I continued to watch how this mother bird cared for them, feeding them, protecting them from the larger birds that attempted to reach her nest. I wondered how long I would be blessed by their presence before they went off into the big world, and felt sad for the struggles that nature imposed on this poor bird in her attempts to keep them with her and safe. I felt for her knowing how limited her time with them would be before they left the nest.
I don't know exactly when these little ones found their wings and flew. I lost track of them with Peyton's birth, her illness and passing, and the grief. In the past week I was outside looking over some work that is being done off the back of our house, and noticed the empty nest still sitting in the tree. Like Peyton's empty room, I found in that nest another reminder of how brief life can be, how quickly a mother can lose so much when her child leaves. Like those baby birds, my child too earned her wings too quickly. And, like that mother bird, I too had to say goodbye.
This is my first attempt at participating in Mel's show and Tell. Please visit this link to see what others are showing and telling.