Music by folk_acoustic on Pixabay.
šæ The squirrel that ran early in the morning along the side wall of my house, vanishing into the mango treeās foliage, didnāt wait for me. One or two hours laterāI couldnāt say exactly how much time passed between one moment and the nextāthe woodpecker, busy at the coconut tree, dropping little tufts of something I couldnāt name, which the wind then swept away, didnāt wait for me eitherā¦
My mind began to spin, trying to connect things (as it always does)ā¦ you see, Iāve a handful of thoughts still unspoken, and I felt an urgent need to release them. Then I imagined the same might happen with these two hummingbirds. Yes, there were two! I thought they wouldnāt wait, given the nature of the day: this sublime Sunday that seemed intent on whispering something about waiting, about the elusive, about what slips away before truly arrivingā¦ Perhaps it was simply their nature; the hummingbirdsācreatures as fascinating as they are restlessā¦ and I, as usual, overthinking, tangling it all up š
And that was when my preconceived ideas fell to the ground, rolled through the grass in the garden, as I stepped on one, two, threeā¦ dried twigs? They waited for me. They gave me the joy I so needed in a moment of exasperation. And so I erased what Iād written. As a wise soul once said: the only thing that never upsets the stomach is swallowing your own words. They were so serene. I have proof, I filmed them with my mobile, just look how close I was.
A moment ago, a yellow leaf with brown freckles drifted toward the terrace fence and stayed stuck there for some minutes, Iād say, felt endless š . And I, rather dazed, stared at it, thinking of a video sceneāmustāve been from a filmāwhere a leaf floats and clings to a windowpane, all in slow motion with soft music playing in the background. After ages of daydreaming, I thought of grabbing my camera and snapping a shot, but it refused to focus. My cameraās got issues, Iāve said so beforeā¦ and just as I finally managed to adjust it manually, I watched, in slow motion, the leaf loosen and fall. It slipped from my frame before I could press the shutter. Sublime.
Do you need the photo of the leaf?
What Iām trying to say isā¦ sometimes they wait for us, sometimes they donāt, but we have an extraordinary gift for preserving the moment, the poetry of the moment. I couldnāt photograph the squirrel, but every time I look in that direction I see it run. I couldnāt photograph the woodpecker, but each glance at the coconut tree reveals a fanciful dance of floating tufts, like confetti bursting from a birthday piƱata.
Not long ago, someone taught me a beautiful lesson. The kind of person who fights for what they wantā¦ it may not make sense from my perspective, but it did for her. It was her dream, and there was no question about whether to pursue it. I wanted to be the squirrel, the woodpeckerā¦ the leaf drifting on the wind. š But that womanā¦ she doesnāt stop for fleeting things, and so I became a hummingbird. It was worth staying to watch. And I received a song as a gift.
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