Mistaking the Sky

I’m trying to steady myself when I bring JuanCarlos to our tiny greenhouse. The news has been arriving in electrical shocks, regular but unpredictable. We’re here to take photos for my mindfulness website, and I’m trying to feel serene, or at least look it.

When I arrived last night, I stepped out of my car and breathed in the Milky Way pouring across the sky, trying to pull its cloak around me. I made plans to wake early and rock on the porch, hoping for one of those rare mornings when the sun hits the greenhouse at the right angle and it looks illuminated from within.

I tell him that I want him to see the bird’s nest I found abandoned and placed inside. Or maybe I’m the one who wants to visit this quiet weave of twigs, secured by a cool, firm mud base, with tiny birch bark peels swirling the edges.

Inside, we find a hummingbird fluttering against the V of the ceiling. Its wings swirl in frantic round blurs, mistaking the clear panels for sky as it chirps its panic upward. Its tiny heart heaves. The escape route is so close, just a few feet away through a missing windowpane, but the hummingbird persists where it is, fighting the ceiling.

I rush inside to get a broom, and JuanCarlos overturns a bucket and climbs up. Using the bristled end, he tries to guide it to freedom. It flies to the other corner. I’m worried the bird will exhaust itself, and I begin talking to it, or to myself. “It’s going to be okay. Just let us help you.”

I feel my own fear rise up to meet this bird’s, stretching wide, announcing its purpose. The hummingbird’s wings buzz faster, and JuanCarlos stays with it until it pauses, trying to rest on a joint. At this moment, he nudges the broom next to the bird, and it releases into the support. Then, he ferries it to the open window, and this bright blue hummingbird flies free.

We are left in stillness.

We collect our things. I’m a bit wobbly, my arms and legs still humming with adrenaline. So is the world. As we turn down the stone pathway to the house, I catch his glance and smile when I see my own tears reflected in his eyes.