Peace at Hand

Standing by the seaside, waves meandering on the shore, a dove lights on my shoulder.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” he chirps, ruffling his feathers, as he settles into his still pose.

“It is.” The sun sets in the sky, leaving remnants of red and orange hanging just above the horizon. Their lingering colors give the waters a healthy ruddy glow. Lifting my eyes above the scenery, I see stars beginning to shine in the distance. Their glamour is drowned out by the city’s Christmas lights, forcing a competition between the two awe-inspiring displays.

I turn around to walk back home. The dove jumps from my shoulder, visibly disturbed by my movement. “Where are you going? You’re not staying here?”

I remain silent as I cross the street. I walk beneath the sidewalk trees lit up with spectacular color for the holidays.

Flying to the nearest tree, the dove sits on the longest branch, watching me as I walked further down the path.

“Don’t you want to be my friend? Why are you walking away?”

Reaching the end of the block, I tap the button to cross the street. As the signal turns, the snow-colored bird suddenly flies toward me, swooping low, almost hitting the back of my head.

“Hey, watch it!” I smooth down the back of my brown, wavy hair, correcting any locks gone astray.

From my shoulder, he echoes, “why are you walking away?”

“There’s nothing left to see. I came down here to watch the sun set on the water. The light show is gone, the fun is over. Besides, I don’t even know you. Why would I stay with someone I don’t even know?” I watch my shoes plod forward, the tips of my black boots appearing more scuffed than ever before.

Instantly, I sneeze, bringing my arm to my face to muffle the noise. The dove jumps to my forearm, with a wide-eyed stare on his face. I drop my arm to my side, and he once again lands on my shoulder.

“You need to go…animals are not allowed in my apartment building.” The look in my eyes is serious and assertive. I sit down on the outside steps, waiting for the bird to take off. Quickly, he moves into my left hand, his claws open wide. Looking up at me, I see a branch in his mouth. Taking the twig out of his beak and tossing it to the ground, I stand on my feet again. “It’s time for you to go. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

The dove, flapping his wings, lifts off her delicate, manicured hand. It suspends in mid-air, in the cold and dark December night. “But what if we never see each other again?”

I wipe the dirt from his claws off my left hand. “Whatever is meant to be will happen. So long…for now.” Unlocking the bolt, I look once more at the poor little dove with pity in my eyes. I wave to him, and shut the door behind me.

***

Check out my latest edition of the book I wrote twenty years ago called The Gift of a Rose: Witness to a Transformation.” It is a compilation of prose and some meditation I wrote as I was going through my experience as a metastatic breast cancer survivor. Let me know what you think!