Pressure is bubbling up inside me. My ears feel it building, wanting to pop. Electric currents lace through my fingertips. My hands lay heavy in my lap with the weight of that invisible movement, so I pick them up and turn them over as if I’m inspecting them. It crawls under my skin, going all over.
All I can do is let it.
The hummingbirds have returned.
One dapper fellow zipped up close beside me and tap-tapped the red coloring on a box on the table. I laughed, walked inside, and made his syrup with a grin on my face. That smile returns with the sounds of his wings each time I hear them.
He’s got the advantage in this relationship. I like having him around.
I shrug to accept the imbalance of power. I’m not sparing much sugar, and his humming is therapeutic. So while I work, I make space for him to keep me company.
There are days when my mind feels so full, scheming to navigate uncharted waters, that I grow impatient with inaction. This is part of the work, too. Yet, my feet can’t sit still. So I’ll walk inside to make sweet water.
I never liked scheming alone. It’s lonely.
A squirrel from across the creek pings across my lawn. The three long-tailed hoodlums who live behind the house have been snacking under the bird feeders. His arrival marks the beginning of a race through the bush – all four circling like my kids used to around the trampoline.
I’m not alone.
I sit up straighter with the thought and let it move through me. I rest my hands in my lap once more – this time, to warm them from the chill in the air. I tuck them under the blanket on my lap, and it gives me time to think of my next words. My next thoughts…
Patience, I tell myself. Small steps can be impactful. Not everything requires a “show.” Not for them. Not even for me…
I need to move, so I do. I move. I move like those squirrels.
It’s not always in the direction my mind is zooming… Sometimes, one simply has to keep up.