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“The Chapman swifts?” Gretchen grins.
“Yeah. You’ve heard of them?”
“They’re sort of famous,” she says, nodding down the trail where we continue on, crunching through the fall leaves. “I’ve always wanted to see them. I think I’d like Portland.”
“Portland is great.” I smile, but it stilts on my lips, and I’m overwhelmed by a dark, bittersweet sensation. There’s nothing in that city that is untouched by Zeke. I clear my throat and continue.
We keep walking and she tells me more about what the preserve is doing to support the native birds that call this part of Vermont home. I ask about migratory birds as we make our way back toward the welcome center in the waning fall sunlight.
“So, have you always been interested in birding?” Gretchen asks as we climb a rocky outcropping.
“Kind of new,” I say, trying to catch my breath as I step up the cutaway granite. “I’ve always liked birds. But I left my MD program recently, and when I saw the swifts, it sort of sparked something. I read an article about how climate change is affecting migratory patterns. And then there was another article about the relationship between migration patterns and the size and make-up of birds’ brains.”
“Right,” she says when we reach the top of the hill. Golden sunlight casts the surrounding valley in a blaze of burnt oranges, the vermilion, the ochre. The Cooper’s Hawk floats overhead in a large, elegant arc, catching air currents to rise higher and higher. The river to the south glistens like it’s coated in diamond dust.
“If you’re really interested, I have some friends at Cornell who study this stuff for a living,” she says, nodding to the southwest as if I could see her friends all the way in Ithaca.
“Oh?” I smile and nod. This feels like my mother’s doing. It has Maureen written all over it. Even knowing that, I’m surprised when what comes out of my mouth is, “Thanks. That would be great.”
Because the truth is, it would be great. I know this is a new interest, but there’s something about it that feels right. Medical school never felt right. The entire way back, I take it all in. If I did something like this, studied birds and migration patterns, it would mean a different life. Maybe I would move to Ithaca. Or somewhere else—I don’t even know where else I’d go to study ornithology. Maybe Tierra del Fuego? The Faroe Islands? They’re sort of famous for birds, aren’t they?
But as I think through the road bumps and the complications of doing something like this, they don’t seem hard. They sound… fun. Exciting. I would love to spend time in the field, wearing waterproof gear and sloshing through mud to look for tracks. Traveling to remote islands with terrible wind and meat-heavy cuisines sounds like an adventure. And spending time in libraries, poring over research—I think I’m actually smiling.
When we return, Mom is sitting comfortably in the driver’s seat, reading a book.
“What do you think?” she asks.
I hesitate getting into the car, letting my eyes scan the trees around me. My phone buzzes in my hand and I look down to see two text notifications. One is from Gretchen, and the other is from Zeke.
I let my head fall back against the headrest and drop my phone into the cupholder. I know I need to talk to him. Even if it’s just for closure.
“I know I haven’t always ‘gotten’ it, Faye,” she says, her voice a little wobbly.
I tense as we enter uncharted territory.
“I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. At times I may have pushed you in the wrong direction or said the wrong thing. I only ever wanted to put you in the best possible position to find happiness.” She looks so vulnerable, admitting she’s done wrong in the past.
“You’ve always been so strong, so ferociously tough. While I hoped you’d find love one day, I always feared you would settle for someone who wasn’t good enough. Zeke…”
“Mom…” My voice wobbles, but she raises her hand, and I let her continue.
“I don’t know what happened, and I don’t need to. You are the smartest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and you know your own heart.”
My heart stumbles, as if in response.
“Maybe he’s your person? Maybe not. But what I want for you is happiness. You’re the strongest person I know, and as tough as this is right now, as awful as it feels, you’ve got to make your own happiness. If this is the next step in your journey, if birds get you there, then I want to help you find your wings.”
I blink quickly.
“Well? What do you think?”
“This is great,” I say, giving her a big smile.
She sighs and reaches across the console to squeeze my hand as if it’s been decided. I think perhaps it has.
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faye
