I see the starlings nearly every day right now.
They appear at the tree line, flying together, in formation. This is called a murmuration.
The other day Harper and I stood outside with the dogs at sunset in complete wonderment as they filled the sky above us for at least twenty minutes. Thousands upon thousands of them swooping and soaring through the darkening sky.
I am struggling with loneliness.
I have lived in my new town for six months and have only one friend anywhere nearby.
I think about friends who have come and gone.
We always say we will keep in touch. But I am not good at that and I seem to choose friends who are like me.
Birds of a feather flock together.
But now I am a flock of one.
I am out running and the starlings fly overhead. I think of running pals I have had over the years.
I used to run with a group. We were a flock, but I moved away. They moved on.
Then in my next town I had a single running friend, so dear, like a sister.
I moved away. Far away, across the world, but we held on to each other.
I found out I would be coming back, we were so excited and had big plans, but she was also very sick.
I am back, but not living in that town and she passed almost a year ago now.
I was out running alone yesterday and the starlings appeared in their numbers, staying together so magically, a mystical dance. Such grace.
I couldn’t hold back the grief and heartache of my solitude.
I stood in the street and cried.