Tunnels

Tunnels are a fascination of mine..... the tree tunnels on Edisto Island- those Spanish Moss hung oaks of old. Then there is the Stumphouse Mountain Tunnel above Walhalla, South Carolina where the mountain was blasted and the train was to run through.... it was never completed so Clemson University stored it's cheese there for a while and now it is a place to double-dare each other to see who can walk into the tunnel the furthest to the deep pocket where you cannot see your hand in front of your face and the coolness of the air feels like ghosts' whispers. There is also the soothing rhododendron tunnels of the Appalachian mountains... these are the tunnels I like to trail run down pretending I'm some undiscovered southern exotic monkey swinging from branch to branch with a wild gracefulness.

This summer I experienced a new sort of tunnel that spoke to be in a different way. Riding my black Schwinn Criss-Cross complete with a front removable metal basket, headlight, rear light, sturdy kickstand, and cute dingy bell, I went on a biking adventure date through the city streets of our town. This tour did not go through the dynamite blasted tunnels on I-40 where one blows their horn when they are feeling especially feisty or when one's kid begs a little too long, but it DID include a ride over a street on an elevated sidewalk.... aka: bridge. The bridge was just a mere concrete walking path with a tunnel-like chained linked fence over it that was kudzu crawled and rusty from one too many Southern summer rains.

As I rode through the tunnel I became momentarily startled by a bird... a common sparrow, I think. It was trapped inside the fence. It flew frantically from side to side then quickly turned and headed to the opening to the end of the tunnel where it quickly gained elevation and flew off into the horizon. I was immediately stunned by the occurrence as I myself was traveling through the tunnel... to the open end. It was at this moment though that I realized the tunnel was not a closed tunnel... it was a chained linked fence tunnel. Light was filtering through those somewhat diamond shaped openings allowing the warm late afternoon light filter in. I also realized that that common sparrow could have chosen any of those holes to escape through... it could have made itself fit, but it chose to experience the entirety of the tunnel and in the end it got to experience the grandeur of entering into the open air... the light... the freedom. My hope is that the bird did not feel at all trapped by the enclosure along the way and that it was able to see the light that illuminated its sidewalk path as it journeyed through.

When You Are Happy

I keep checking out the same book over and over again from the library and it keeps making my heart flutter and my eyes well... these words are so beautiful. I believe that they describe pure true love... the most innocent and lasting kind.

When You Are Happy
By: Eileen Spinelli

When you are sad,
I will hold you.
I will let you cry.

I will catch your tears
in a blue cup
and water the yellow flowers
and they will grow
more beautiful.

When you are cold,
I will weave you
a blanket
from leftover sun.

I will sing summery songs
for you until
my voice cracks,
and I will watch you
warmly
until I become
the firelight
dancing in your eyes.

When you are sick,
I will sit by your bed
quietly waiting
in case you
should want something-
warm soup, chamomile tea,
painted rainbows,
poems piled like pillows
around your head.

When you are lonely,
I will show up
on your doorstep
with my heart in
a basket.
I will whisper
"I love you"
until your loneliness
grows wings
and flies off
like a silken bird.

When you are afraid,
I will take your hand
and not let go-
except once
to borrow
one hundred tiny stars
to spell out the words:
You are safe.
They will shine above you
forever,
even in the darkest dark.

When you are tired,
I will say, "Come,
lie here in my lap.
Take a long nap.
But first, tell me
your sweetest dreams
so that I might lash them
into a tender raft
floating toward you
as you sleep."

When you are grumpy,
I will make you giggle.
I will wear a hat
made of cabbage leaves.
I will tickle myself
with duck feathers,
I will lift my shirt
and show you
my belly button
until your laughter
spurts
and gurgles
and spills like creek water
across the empty sky.

When you are lost,
I will search for you
with my lantern.
I will follow the tangled path
and find a way
when there is no path.
I will wear out my shoes
and a dozen little
rays of hope,
but...
I WILL find you!

When you are happy...
oh, when you are happy.
I will outleap the frog,
outbuzz the bee,
outwink the firefly.
I will twirl you
round meadows
until we are both
dizzy
and dazzled
and falling down
into our grassy heap
of joy.

When you are happy.

Emerging

On a rainy spring afternoon in the late 70's we pulled out Country Squire wood paneled station wagon into the parking lot of Sherwood Court apartments. About to dash down to give Gran-Gran a hug and get our dose of Tab soda out of the 1-liter glass bottle, my sisters and I stopped in our tracks.... there by the curb about to be washed down the drain pipe was a baby bird.... not the cute fuzzy kind that chirps asking for a worm, but a partially formed one... a robin with a little round head and long skinny neck emerging from a baby blue shell with eyes reminding me of purple peas and a beak the color of early morning sunshine. It was beautiful... what a find.

My mother, being the adventurous curious type scooped it up in a tissue. She took that little bird home and placed it in a glass Gerber baby food jar and filled the remaining space with rubbing alcohol. It sat on our breakfast room shelf amongst Mom's other trinkets of great value- or potential great value.... rubbery figurines of the Campbell's Soup Kids, the Jolly Green Giant, and the Morton Salt Girl. From that day forward we had the coolest Show and Tell item any girl could ever ask for.

I think this is what started my fascination with birds.

What is interesting in hindsight is the fact that the bird was starting to form- it was on its way to perfection- to being the bird God had created it to be when some circumstance stopped it and caused it to forever remain emerging, but never fully developed. It would be forever trapped in that little glass jar with the blue lid floating in a foreign substance and gawked over by hundreds of school kids.

I loved that little bird and I still treasure the memory of it and the impact it had on me and how I view nature and more specifically birds. So I have to ask myself if the bird was not fully developed for a reason... maybe it was developed into what God intended it to be... a lesson?

God made birds with wings to fly yet this bird never made it completely out of its shell. Is this how we are made? As a human was I made with an inner being and given a specific soul and then my circumstances stopped me short of discovering the joy and completeness of finding the voice of that soul and the essence of that being? Do some of us develop partially and for some reason or another that is enough because that is where we need to be for others around us?

I can't help but think that the bird was dead.... the bird was dead as well as trapped yet it lit up so many eyes of those that stared at it through the murky alcohol forever leaving an impression.