Fly Birdie Fly

“The crickets are chirping, but the sun is still out?It’s too early. It’s happening again! NOOO!!! NOT SCHO- Wait Squirrel! Oh right, NOT SCHOOL!!!!”

 The shafts of light drifted and darted into the open spaces of the tree tops. The last remaining fireflies of the summer had just begun their final flights. Sam could smell the pervasive scent of smoke and the intoxicating aroma of cooked meat from the house down the block. It almost took his mind away from this cyclical tragedy that played out every summer. But not even the heavenly perfume of a cooked burger could calm Sam now.

His anxiety first started last week with the grass during their walks. Gone was the round the clock humidity that kept the air sticky but the grass dry. Instead, Sam felt a much cooler and crisp air on his nose, and the grass was wet with dew. Next were the squirrels, he thought he heard them talking about beginning to “stock up.” Sam tried to chalk this comment up to a mishearing on his part. But his simmering anxiety reached its boiling point when “it” came, The Bag.

The Bag wasn’t just one but rather a dozen of the same bag that came every time summer was almost over. Now, normally the picture of a tennis ball inside of a hollow frisbee would have been a welcome treat for Sam. But this particular pairing on a shopping bag only meant one thing. School was beginning and Sara was leaving.   

 A deep disappointment set in Sam’s chest as he laid his head down on the backyard deck. In front of him the crickets, hidden from view, were chirping the last notes of their summer tour.  Out of the corner of his eye Sam could see Sara's head laying on his soft golden shoulder. She was curled up and asleep, with a warm twilight blanket of heat to keep her warm. Looking at the 12 year old’s long, wild, and wavy hair reminded him of the way it would whip along the shore line during the many days of fetch at the beach. He thought of how she would tie it back in a big bushy bun, prior to chasing fireflies together in this very backyard. Or the way it would cover his face every morning when she hugged him in bed right before going down for a slow and  relaxed breakfast together. Sam laid his head even further into the deck, almost merging with the wood planks.

“Hmmmm. I don’t like this. Why does she have to go!? No one taught me to fetch or the proper way to sniff butts. I just did it. These animals are odd, it’s like they were born without knowing anything.”

Sam put his paws over his eyes, as he remembered the last school year.

“Is she going to be okay? I hope the girls from last year leave her alone.”

The countless bedroom conversations began playing through his head. The “mean” girls at school, the lonely lunches, the anxious walks down the hall, and the tears of confusion that came with each telling. Sam couldn’t do much to help, but he would always stay with her no matter what. At the end he would make sure to lick the tears away; her beautiful teeth would appear and her rosy cheeks would rise up every time, no matter how tough the day had been.

“HMMPPHH?!”

Sam raised his nose a little higher, moving it closer to the source, like a metal detector, till he found the source of the scent. Across the yard were a small family of birds. Resting on the tree tops. 

“Wow, those hatchlings grew so fast! I remember when they were chirping for the first time this summer. Wait, STOPPPP!!”

The younger birds began to jump off and glide through the air, diving into the canopy of grass below and flapping upwards soon after with a freshly caught worm.

“Woah, the little guys finally learned to fly! It’s funny how the parents just let them fall. Aren’t they scared they’ll get hurt?”

The youngling birds returned to the branch chirping proudly to their parents. Not soon after, they were back at it again, rising and falling through the air chirping with joy and excitement. Sam watched this and then turned his head towards Sara. She laid still, at peace.

“The birds aren’t the only ones that grew this summer.” 

Aside from Sara, the work of the invisible yet ever present hand of time and change was seen throughout the yard. By the rose bush, the once small baby rabbit, now fully grown, hopped with precision and speed that would fluster even the fastest hawks.  In the garden, the tiny buds of spring had grown into massive tomato vines. Above, Sam had seen with his own eyes the construction and growth of the beehive in the upper reaches of the pine tree. All over life was growing around him. He also knew that within a short time it would begin to collapse. The now strong and fertile trees would shed their green armor. The tomato vines would wilt. The industrious bees would rest their weary bodies. Such was life. Sam could stop the turning of time as much as he could stop the tides of the ocean. But that isn’t the point. Life is change, life is motion. To stop it would be no different then preventing Sam from chasing frisbees, burying bones, or barking at cats. It is the essence of who he is. 

Sam glanced again at Sara. The weight in his chest didn’t subside, but he was okay with it now. He laid his head closer to hers, nestling it near his ear. 

“There was only one way those birds were going to learn to fly and same with this one here. I’ll be here waiting tomorrow and all the days after. Ready to jump and lick you. And if you fall I’ll make sure to catch your tears every time. Go fly Sara, I’ll be watching.”