We stare at each other. Both have long limbs; both find pleasure near the shore of the lake. A few turtles on a log soak in the sunlight between us. I admire her balance, how she can hold herself up on just one leg. She’s beautiful. Grey more than blue with a long beak. I wonder if she uses that beak to poke her mate, if her mate is the one who stays home and watches over the nest. Is there a nest? Or does she move from body of water to the next, watching the sun slowly sink into the ravine of the next hill over there? I want to chase it as well until I know the best shore to make my own.
She’s observing me carefully, which means both of us have trust issues. It’s okay, we are working on it. Once we have a stable place to call home, then maybe we can open our hearts to new experiences, new people, perhaps even try that dish we were too scared to try, you know, the one with raw eel. I wonder if she prefers things based on taste. Who knows, maybe she is fasting for the Great Heron God? The one that uses the sky as its body of water. I admire her piety. She stretches out one long wing, almost as if she is waving at me. I wave back. I tell her my name. She speaks in a language that I don’t understand. Well, at least we aren’t strangers anymore. Does that make us friends? Wait, there comes the anxiety and trust issues. I wonder if she thinks she is prettier than I. I think she is, but I would never tell her. One of the turtles splashes into the water, and we both blink in surprise. I laugh, trying to lighten the mood. She puts her leg back into the water, takes the other one out. Show off.
We both watch the ripples of a bass coming up to the surface to remind himself that the sky is still there. I don’t blame him; it’s dark in those waters. I wonder if she thinks that she can take him. I shake my head. She folds her wings back into herself and lowers her torso down. Where are you going? I ask. But she has already leaped into the air, and with a flap, then two, then three, she is in the air, and I am stuck watching her on the shore. Goodbye, my friend. I hope you find whatever you desire.
About the Author
Sophie Isham (they/them) is a queer trans nonbinary writer studying at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. Their work can be found in Screen Door Review.
