Tony and I love to watch the birds that fly through our yard.  Like most of the residents of Compass Pointe, we eagerly await the arrival of the Hummingbirds and make sure that their “homemade nectar” is hanging in a tree above flowers and is always fresh.   We love listening to various sounds of mockingbirds in the freshness of the day as we sip our coffee.

A few years ago, we had a mother Cardinal who built a nest in the Jasmine vines resting against the windows of our lanai.  They were tucked up under the eaves safe from the rain and predators.  We spent weeks listening to the babies chirp for food until they finally left the nest.

This year, as it did last year, a mother Carolina Wren built her nest in a thick, rich, green plant in a stand right on our front porch.  We had a “bird’s eye view” of the feeding activity and today, we watched them fly away.    There were four of them, heads popping out from the leaves of the plant and then perched on the side of the pot ready to try their wings.  Number one and two took a deep breath and flew away.  Number three tripped.  He got to the rim of the pot and instead of flying away, got caught in the hanging stems below the plant.  He tried to free himself a few times and then just sat there.  It looked like he was trying to figure out his next move.  He didn’t want his mom’s help, but this is not how his brothers left the nest and I think he was confused.  Number four, went sailing above the plant and into the outside world without so much as a backward glance.  I think that’s all number three needed.  He gathered his courage and took off, joining his brothers in flight.  Mother bird watched them from the safety of one of our rocking chairs.  I couldn’t tell if she was rooting for them to fly away or if her heart was breaking because she knows the dangers that her babies might encounter.

Oddly enough, watching them reminded me of when I left home to start my own life.  Like the little birds, my sisters and I were totally dependent on my parents to sustain us.  My mother had great fear about us working in the downtown area, or leaving the house at all.  When I wanted to go to college, first they said no, and then compromised to say that I could go to a college specializing in accounting—so far off from my dream of becoming a writer—that one of our neighbors attended.  The plan was, I would take the bus in the morning with him, I would plan my classes around his and I would take the bus home with him in the afternoon.

Obviously, this was not my idea of “going to college” to become a writer.  I passed on the “opportunity” and so was expected to be “the daughter of the house” like my older sister was.  This translated into not working, not driving, doing church activities, watching soap operas, not going out on the weekends and being supported by my parents just like I was when I was a young child.

I was engaged to my high school sweetheart but still had to ask permission to do things with him—even as simple as going on a picnic.  My parents weren’t happy that I was engaged but planned on being very active in my life as far as decisions were concerned even after I was married.  Like my mother said, “No young punk is going to stop me from managing your life, I don’t care if you are married.”

I managed to talk my parents into letting me work with two church friends in a temporary job for the Police Athletic League to save money for the wedding. Actually, my employer was a promotional advertising company based in Indianapolis, Indiana, and had assignments all over the country with various Police Athletic Leagues to raise money for their charities.  I loved it.  I was good at it.  My manager told me about a program the company created to take employees from the field and teach them how to establish and manage these sites.  Once you completed the program, you worked with a seasoned manager until you were deemed ready to run your own job.

The thought of leaving home and traveling to different parts of the country thrilled me.  I wanted to join the program.

I remember the night that I broached the subject.  I was back in “the nest” where I belonged.  It was after work and I was tired.  Like the little birds in the nest, I ate what my mother put in front of me and listened to her chirp on about the storyline from her soap opera that day.  I brought up the program and like little bird number three, I got caught in the vines that kept me securely in place.

My mother stopped “chirping” and instead sounded like an angry parrot.  “Of course, I couldn’t go.  Who knows what would happen to me?  I could be kidnapped or worse.  I wouldn’t make it through the program.  I needed to just stay put and be safe like my older sister.”

As you can imagine, the nest became like a jungle, swallowing me up and pushing me further and further into the depths of darkness.  I had to leave the nest.

My boss was the one who told me about the program so I decided to use him to my advantage.  I arranged for him to come and talk to my parents about the opportunity.  He stressed what I would learn but the turning point for my parents was when he pointed out that I would be so busy and in another part of the country, I might decide not to marry my high school sweetheart after all.  He promised to get me to Indianapolis so I wouldn’t be traveling alone and the next thing I knew, I was packing.  I was leaving the nest.

It was almost two years before I went back.  The house looked smaller; my parents looked older.  My older sister hadn’t changed at all.  Still watching soap operas, still sleeping till noon.   My clothes were different and so was my attitude and my mother noticed both right away.  She kept peppering our conversation with words like, “I guess we’re not good enough for you anymore.”

I tried to explain that yes, I had changed but that wasn’t a bad thing.  I learned, I grew, I achieved things and I had to leave the nest to do that.

Many years later, I was a mature woman and my mother was very old.  Me leaving the nest still seemed to bother her.  She asked me one day, “Did you leave home because of me?”

How do you explain that we lived in an environment where I couldn’t breathe? Where the hidden vines of the nest kept me tied up in knots?  I couldn’t.

“No, Mom,” I said.  “I left because of me and all of the things I wanted to accomplish—and I did.”

I found out she was keeping us safe in the only way she knew how because of a terrible trauma she experienced in her youth that wasn’t revealed to me until after her death.  She left her nest when she was very young and fell into an abusive relationship.  She never forgot the horrible mistake she made in leaving the safety of her parent’s home to fly away to a new life.