No 7: A FLIGHT OF LONELINESS
PHOTO BY LUCIA AUERBACH
MARJHAN VASSEGHI
Stepping over the threshold, the brightness of the morning sun kisses her cheek. Setting the covered, wicker basket down next to her, she stares into the sun with her big, curious hazel eyes. She is grateful for this new day, grateful for the warmth of the sun on her face. Grateful for another chance to live.
Bending down to retrieve her basket, her turquoise veil falls to her side, draping to one side, revealing her short, black hair. Bent over, she admires how the veil accents her clear, hazel eyes, just a few shades darker, highlighting the depth and contrast in her eyes. She sees the backside of the copper beads and wonders how they were individually hand stitched into her veil. She wonders how long it took to make, how long it took to sew each delicate piece into the ever thinner fabric.
From the basket at her side she retrieves a pure white dove. Recalling how the bird startled her earlier this week as it flew into her living room with a broken wing. She was sitting alone, as usual, in her living room with her feet up, working on her mandala embroideries. The window was open and she was just about to get up to water her lavender alliums when a white dove, a rare bird in her village, flew in through the window, collapsing on the rug. Stunned, she jumped out of her chair and not knowing how to react, stood and watched the bird squirm in pain.
Being glad that she was able to nurse it back to health and glad that the bird flew into her house and not one of her neighbors’. Knowing who did not have patience for people, let alone a live animal. Now, after a week of rest, she knew that the bird was strong enough to fly and return to its home. Stroking the bird’s cascading feathers as she held it in her arms, she knew she had to let it go, but she had grown attached to it and its company. After all, the apartment had grown lonely without her father there to brighten the room with his ever-glowing spirit. Her conscience kept telling her to let the bird live it’s life as it was meant to be, free and wild. Her head was soon filled with thoughts of whether or not the bird had a family and if they were worried about it at all. She thought of the bird’s role in other creature’s lives, what if this bird had other birds depending on it. She knew the logical thing was to let it return to its own kind, but some part of her was thinking illogically, tempted to shed a tear at the thought of giving up a friend. She even went as far as entertaining the idea of keeping the animal as a pet, she would take care of it and be known as the village lady with a pet dove.
With tears welling up in her hazel eyes, magnifying them and bringing out their green hues and highlights, she thought of something her father said to her before he passed away, “Make sure you know what you are letting go of. Until you are 100% sure of your decision you can't let go.” For hours she sat on the front step of her apartment building, letting her tears fall, contemplating her decision, and making sure that she was confident. For hours she sat in amazement, the now healthy dove in her arms that could have flown away, but didn’t, instead it stayed, almost as if it knew she needed it’s support. The bird was being a friend in her moment of need.
Wiping her tears away she stood up and lifted the bird up into the sky. It took a second for it to walk to the edge of her delicate fingertips and give in to the wind, and once the bird did it was filled with the feeling of uplifted freedom in it’s heart as it took off towards the clouds. The girl watched it from below, happy that the bird regained its freedom, suddenly it stopped moving towards the clouds, flying back down, hovering over the girl as it cocked it’s head in confusion.
“Don’t worry,” she said wiping away her tears, “these are happy tears. Now, go live your life.”
The bird cooed once, as if to thank and comfort the girl. Then it took off.
The girl was left on the step, watching the bird and feeling inspired to live freely. Once it disappeared into the clouds, she adjusted her veil, picked up her wicker basket and set off to the market.
Every morning after, she noticed that the dove would return to her window, to sit amongst the lavender alliums. Providing her with the company she so needed. Returning everyday to the window sill the bird would sit and make sure that she wasn't lonely.
PHOTO BY MARJHAN VASSEGHI
