strangely familiar

i find myself in dorms i used to know in another capacity, and i'm grateful for the comfort of my sister with me. i'm consciously disconnecting from this place, transitioning on to the next phase of my life, but trying not to opt out of being here completely. though it is tempting.

tears always come to me here, the presence of so many people, the conversations, the evaluation of works, of workshops, of schedules. last night was no different. and my sister reports my wimpering in my sleep.

that's how i was feeling,

i replied.

it is time to move forward. in every sense.

yesterday, walking with my sister through the field, she said, as i'm clamboring loudly through the grass,

stop! look!

and i stopped short, one leg up in the air, and began turning my head to get a glimpse of whatever it was she was gawking at.

not thirty feet in front of us, on a bench we were sitting on the day before, sat a hawk. one foot up, completely relaxed. i recognized the speckled plumage as that of a youngster, he must have recently fledged because he was nonplussed by our presence. as if he didn't yet know how terrible humans are, or can be. and i am grateful for that gentle unknowing.

in that way, i hope he knew us, that we were not to be feared, because we weren't.

so we snapped a few pictures of him, and edged closer, then sat in front of him and watched.

ultimately he flew off. and we went to get our lunch. on the way back we searched but could not find him. so we sat on the bench he had occupied.

i saw a hawk flutter in the trees and we watched it fly down to the grass behind us. then we noticed the fledgie on the ground. wings agape, tail feathers spread. the momma hawk seemed to be nudging it to get it to fly.

it's hurt,

my sister said.

no, let's just watch. we don't want to spook her or she'll abandon him.

so we watched him resist her persistent nudging. we could just imagine her motherly internal dialogue,

FLY ALREADY, there are people watching.

but fledgie preferred to run into the bushes than fly. he even lolled onto his side a couple times when she came at him. he was not going to move.

ultimately, he did move. they both flew some, but we sat with the fledgie for hours. HOURS.

he rested in a tree, and we perched on the grass beneath him. we couldn't get very good pictures because they blend in so well. but there we were, less than thirty feet from one hawk, on occasion two.

it was the kind of safari i needed to rejuvenate me.

and then, ultimately, we came back to the dorms. where i cried. and read. and slept. and wimpered through the night.

but i'm awake now. it's all okay. everything is going to be okay.

i believe this.