The
bird had strayed too far inland and was now poised over the land as he battled
a stiff headwind. Struggling forward to the safety of the beach,
the small creature clawed the air as it buffeted him backward and kept him from
home, from his family and friends.
Thomas
flew next to the bird in his imagination.
He pushed relentlessly against
the wind and made no more progress than his companion. He was tiring quickly.
When
the bird could no longer move his exhausted wings, he slapped them back against
his sides, nosed over and plummeted to earth, flaring out at the last moment to
land hard in Thomas’s back yard. He bounced on the grass and lay on his side.
Sitting
in his chair on the grass, the old man had almost felt the jolt when they
landed. Thomas’s imaginary flight had been
a brief but welcome change from the daily sameness of his life. He was no longer physically able get down to
the shore, but sat behind his house in the late afternoon sun each day watching
the birds and hoping for the smell of the sand and the ocean to drift his way.
The young bird stood up and flitted from the grass to a tree and then from
limb to limb, frustration mounting in his heart as he hoped each new view of his
surroundings would hold a solution to his plight.
Eventually the sun moved low on the
horizon, the shadows lengthened. The
bird couldn’t fly in the dark, but he knew he mustn’t stay on the ground through the coming hours of
the night. Lizards, snakes or other vermin stood by to make a meal of him
before the sun rose again. Out of
frustration he jumped into the air to fly anywhere. He scolded himself to just get going and hope
for the best. But the sea breeze blew
him back each time he tried and he was afraid what little strength he had left would
be sapped, leaving him weak in the face of whatever dangers might attack him
before dawn.
Just before darkness fell, the bird
rallied and again attempted to fly up into the unconquerable breeze. Thomas’s aging eyes now noticed the bird was
not young and slim, but rather old and frail.
The
frightened bird was beside himself with anguish. He launched himself into the air with
desperation. The old man released an audible sigh. He no longer wanted to imagine himself up in
the air flying along with the old bird, feeling his terror. A young bird would overcome adversity. An old bird might not survive without a
miracle. In Thomas’s mind age made a
difference. Age would lose the battle.
The
bird gave up and settled back down on the grass. Thomas stayed in the yard. Rather than retire to the kitchen as usual to
fix his supper, he remained near the bird to watch by the light of an early
moon. The man wished for a miracle, but believed
they seldom happened.
The
breeze off the ocean stopped. The night became
soundless for a few seconds. The bird
quickly launched himself up into the air one more time. Thomas was immediately at his side, at least
in his mind. Suddenly, they both heard
the breeze resume and their hearts sank.
But the twice daily miracle had already taken place. The land cools
faster than the depthless ocean each evening, causing the great masses of air
to once again switch places, but this time in the opposite direction. As Thomas and the bird braced themselves to be
slapped backward again, the air
temperatures reached their tipping points.
In the twinkling of an eye the sea breeze reversed itself.
The
bird was caught by the land breeze and whisked ahead toward the beach in the
strengthening moonlight. He had only to
wait for the grace built into his world to rescue him.
The
bird saw creation respond to his need that evening. Thomas saw a miracle. It’s a miracle you might see as ordinary, but only if you never struggled with
the impossible and wondered how you would ever find an answer.
Copyright by David Griffin, 2016
The
Windswept Press
Murrells Inlet, South
Carolina
Very powerful, Dave.
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