it's a miracle or it's nothing

call it what you want

Since moving to the country I spend a not insignificant amount of time looking at the sky, trying to determine: bald eagle or turkey vulture?

They’re similar, the two. Especially from so far down. Enormous wingspans, black bodies, tips of white like a fresh coat of paint’s steady edging.

But don’t be fooled — they’re not actually similar, I’m told. I’m told they’re actually very different indeed. Everyone knows one is bad, the other good. Everyone knows you must tell the difference.

So each time, I dutifully wonder: today, am I lucky or not? In awe or not? Blessed or not?

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Once, my son got lost in the woods, crying and panicked. He swears a bird led him all the way home. You know, I whispered in bed as I stroked his hair late into the night, in Bible stories, God often takes the shape of a bird. Yes, he says, yes a dove. It was actually a dove. It was actually a dove with an olive branch in its mouth that guided him home.

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Since moving to the country I spend a not insignificant amount of time looking at the sky, trying to determine: bald eagle or turkey vulture?

They are easily mistaken, and I am one given to making easy mistakes. But does it even matter, so high in the air? It’s a miracle or it’s nothing.

When no one’s around to tell me I’m wrong, I call it what I want.