To Where We Find Ourselves

Before I begin this narrative, I need to state that this was written back in January after finding out my dear friend Sydney passed away. I needed to process what had happened. We were to meet up in October, but covid restrictions got in the way.  And it was too late to say good-bye.  At the time, I wrote this to work out my feelings. We, friends and family, are all still working through our emotions. I just came back from her funeral this past weekend.  It was a beautiful tribute to a beautiful human being. Our story began at the start of the century on a small island known as Sal in the Cape Verde island chain.  It seems like a lifetime ago. We were in the Peace Corps.  Both teachers and both at a crossroads in our lives. 

January 2021. I'm like a trapped bird in a cage. Nowhere to fly.  Nowhere to explore. I sit in darkness on my perch. Because I choose to do so. You would listen and smile. 

But even if I could fly, would I remember? I feel great anxiety and fear.  The trepidation of the unknown.  Where do I start?  How do I begin? You would have that motherly advice. 

I feel smothered by rules, rules created by me. Stretched thin over too many places. I remember you though.  And I remember your stories. You fought to have the life you had.  You CHOSE happiness over anger.  Your stories made me hopeful.  Look at the little things.  Keep an open mind. That always has been a challenge for me.  You listened.  You loved.  And you were a good friend. 

It's the flight that worries me.  I'll get caught up in the clouds and never want to come back.  It used to be so easy, but now I sense my fragile mortality more than ever in my own life. Sometimes I feel that I do this all alone. It's why I fly.  It keeps me distracted from the reality of my cage. It's why you flew, wasn't it? 

The cage door cracks open. I slip out.  Excited. Nervous.  Sad.  I leave my safe, secure and dull world behind.  I carry with me all the cares and dreams of those before me.  How irresponsible I was with the time we had together. You were too kind to tell me this, but you allowed me to process it all in my own way.

"There will be tomorrow!", my younger self says. But that's only a lie I tell myself. Tomorrow may never come.  And these winds carry opportunities. You taught me that. I must take it. My older self relives my younger moments and where we met. I would have lived my life differently had the "me" of today intervened.  You  knew we all had to choose our own path, just like you yourself did.  You never judged.  All you did was show me your love through those acts of kindness and share with me those wonderful words of wisdom. 

But I wanted a home. By doing so, I created my cage. I wanted to create a safe and wonderful cage.  It's the choice I made. And I had to do it THEN! Only now do I seize upon this freedom with regret and sadness.  It is too late. I can hear your kind voice in my thoughts. "No regrets.  Just live and find your happiness." I will do my best to live out those wise words of yours for the rest of my life.  

She was older.  She was frail. We both knew it. But I could protect her as we both wanted to see our island one last time. Though the cage of reality had other plans for us both. Now I will be returning to our home alone with your ashes. (End of write in January)

In Cape Verde, we were allowed a safe space to reflect upon our lives. Inside that yellow building, we talked about everything. We worked on house decorations and planted a garden. Banana crabs, feral cats, cockroaches, embragadas, dust!, hissing lizards and all....

 At your funeral, I met all your family and friends who you always spoke fondly of. You may have moved away from Sequim, but you always carried them and their stories with you. I met your amazing son and daughter and their beautiful families. 

Some of your friends wore their fun hats like you used to do to honor your memory.  

There were so many colors.  I know you would have loved it. We all felt your presence in that old Sequim cabin in the woods. 

When I stepped out of the car into your driveway, I walked over to the shed. The trees. Your color.  The way YOU saw the world. Your cabin was everything I imagined it would be.  The people you described to me in your stories were real.  I can see why you loved them.  I can see why they made you laugh and so happy.

It's never easy saying good-bye to a family member or friend. How do you express all of this lifetime of conversations into a minute speech at a memorial? I wanted to tell them all how much she loved them, but all that I could think about was her message to me. Live your truth.  Live your life. Be happy and release that ugly negative energy. Live today. I don't hate crying, but I can't speak when I'm overcome with emotion. It just all flashed together and I hope I was able to make some sense. Others also had a hard time speaking so I wasn't alone. It felt good sharing and not keeping it inside.     

This memory, from the pic above, seems like yesterday but it was actually taken 2 decades ago. I am so grateful that Sydney and I both had many adventures after our Peace Corps experience together.  I wish we had had more time, but I will always treasure our friendship.  She was a role model for so many, sometimes a sassy diva and always a dear friend. 

I'll never forget that first moment I met her in Cidadi Velha.  She was surrounded by goats drinking a fanta.  Then we tried our first coconut drink together.  And she said, "Isn't this fun?!"  That's when I knew we'd be friends. She taught me that a person is never too old to have fun or take risks.

And since this is a blog about birds and our lives.  Sydney and I both loved birds very much.  We didn't have a clue that we were some kind of bird watcher.  We just knew that we loved birds. During our training, Ms. Jackson and I loved going to the embassy pool.  While we swam, we watched this stunning kingfisher perch above our heads.  The bird was always there. 

I even have evidence that I was an emerging birder! The attempted pic above is  the Gray-headed Kingfisher which was found on their currency at the time. So as you can see, my photography wasn't great. I'd study the Cape Verdean Sparrow while having my coffee in the morning waiting for classes to begin.  I'd compare the plumage scheme with our own House Sparrows and make notations on how that sparrow was different. Um.....I was a birder.  Just didn't know that that was a thing. The pic below was taken from wiki.  Cameras have come a long way since then!

Eventually Sydney moved from Washington to Florida. Sydney loved her Boat-tailed Grackles and her Florida neighbors, the Burrowing Owls. We would drive around Cape Coral checking out all of her owls to make sure they were okay. I'll never forget my lifer, Boat-tailed Grackles at her feeders and how she just threw bread everywhere around her feeders. Yes yes.  I had the talk.  Bread isn't good for birds, but I figured, they're grackles.  Basically, they're like people and eat anything. Whenever she fed them, I had a good laugh. We'd watch them dunk their bread in the bird bath and soften it up before eating it.  That fascinated us both. "Like dunking cookies in coffee."

We had so much fun together because she loved life.  And I loved her for it. Her positive attitude was contagious.  I'll miss you Sydney.  We'll travel to places near and far. I already have the spots for your ashes picked out because I know YOU will love them. 

Thank you Sydney for your friendship. I hope we cross paths again. You are loved by so many and will be greatly missed.