Stand tall. We’ll survive.
When life’s tough, the going rough.
Nature makes us smile.
After a decade of caregiving, I’m now focusing on self care and my own plans for the future. But that focus brings with it more questions than answers.
Such as where will I live?
What do I need to survive?
Can I return to the freedom and transcendence of my twenties?
And is that realistic?
What I do know for sure is I’m often overthinking my decisions, which only leads to over stressing.
So with the chirping chickadees beckoning me out into the sunshine, I’m confident exercise is the right path for me this day.
I head to a nearby park reserve.
Snowshoeing down the canal, I hang a right past two smiling teens in plaid shorts basking in 40 degree temps.
To my left as I enter the lake, I dodge holes left by ice fishermen long gone. Though soon I spot new ones being aggressively augured by ice fisherwomen behind a rusting Chevy truck.
I move on.
My final destination is the simple yet sturdy home of a neighbor.
One I’ve never met, though I know this neighbor’s out of town.
Most likely she’s in Florida, as are many Minnesotans this time of year.
We call them ‘snowbirds’ here in the midwest.
As I get closer, I see this snowbird’s home rests atop the tallest tree on the shoreline.
She’s one very lucky bald eagle.
This elegant bird of strength will be soaring back in March to her familiar nest to lay this year’s eggs.
A smart female, I’m thinking.
Nomadic, yet a bird who knows just what she wants and needs to stay centered.
Flying with grace on her return flight to Minnesota, she’ll settle in again to simplicity and beauty.
Maybe there is a lesson for me woven right into her special nest.
I look up and smile at this simply constructed home of strength.
Once the ice melts I’ll be kayaking over again to welcome the bird back home, as well as to thank her.
In the meantime, I’ll return home to work on simplifying my own nest.