Empty nest syndrome.

Cinematic Moment:  Missing a piece.

I noticed their daddy building a nest right outside our front door.  From there a momma bird appeared and beneath her, 4 bright blue eggs.  Taking a peek in that tiny nest became a daily habit.  I'd bring the dogs outside and make sure they were OK around five times a day.  My man would chide me for peeking at the nest through the window, scaring away the mother occasionally on accident.

One morning, the eggs were gone.  In their place, 4 tiny pink bodies pulsed.  I yelled out--"We're grandparents!"  It was so exciting to see them there, breathing itsy bitsy breaths and squirming around while their parents went out to get them food.  Every day I watched them grow a bit more--new feathers popping up each morning.  I tossed out breadcrumbs and seed.  I took photos and gabbed to my own mom about their birth and progress, taping up signs to warn the landscapers of their presence: "***Please do not disturb the baby birds or run them over with lawn equipment***!!" 

Finally, they opened their eyes, nearly spilling out of the nest with their quickly growing wings and mass.  I spoke to them gently.  "Welcome to the world little babies."  They opened their mouths wide for a snack.  I was in love.

A few days ago, as I took the puppies out for the evening, I checked in on them to say goodnight.  My heart stopped when I realized there was one lone baby in there, huddling into himself to stay warm.  His mother chirped to me from a nearby tree, getting nervous at my presence.  My first instinct was sheer panic.  Then I started to cry.  Had something gotten them?  If they had indeed become groundlings, why was there one left behind?  I stayed in the rocking chair for almost an hour in the dark waiting to see if a cat or hawk came back to get the last one.  I was ready to attack and defend that baby.  But nothing came except the momma, who nestled in on top of the remaining bird. 

I couldn't sleep all night wondering if they were going to be alright.  When I woke up, I ran out to check on him.  The nest was completely empty. 

 It's funny how something so ordinary can have such a profound effect.  I sat on the front porch, pulled down the landscapers sign and crumpled it into a ball.  I felt alone in every sense of the word.  I can't imagine being a parent who has to let their children go.  It must be the most difficult thing in the world.

I'll never know what happened to my little bird babies.  I prefer to think they are learning to fly.