Gazing with Eyes Shut

The pan sizzles. The pot pops and bubbles. Mom hums while stirring.

“Sarah-Jayne, could you please go find your sister? Supper will be ready in fifteen.”

I glance out at the dock where Jenn sits with chin in hand. “Do you know where she is?”

“Sorry, Dear. You know how she is on windy days. I haven’t seen her for an hour or more.”

“You could ring the bell.”

“I would but she’s likely too far to hear it.”

I slip out the door barefoot and hop across the sand. Quick across the bleached boards, I plunk down next to my sister who sits gazing with eyes shut, the wind pulling back her hair.

“Hurry back,” Mom calls from the window. “And stay away from the island.”

“Which island, Mom?”

“You know perfectly well which island I mean.”

I scan the bay. Where could Jenn be? There’s no hint in the sky or any glint of sunlight off her white back. No flick of boomerang wings. No moody song in the wind.

I lean back and squeeze my eyes shut but it’s far too bright to find my wings. I slip behind her, back to back, and try again. My head taps hers as I stretch up and out to allow my chest to widen. I pull out one dark feather and then another until I split right open. With no hesitation I leap and soar, abandoning my shell for now. The turtle has become the raven.

As I tip over the tree line, there’s no need to push the air down because I can glide. The wind is a raging sea. Tumultuous spirals pull my wide wings along the ebbs and flows making my feather tips purr. I close my eyes and ride the waves. There’s nothing as enjoyable as a windy day.

The cowbell rings below, startling me from my stormy trance. I flash a scowl at the kitchen window. I was beginning to have fun. I flick a wing at Mom and glide to North Bay hunting for my sister’s pale wings. I spot Captain Dread instead. The grump is fishing on the dock. I dive-bomb him, cawing violently just above his head. He tries to throw a shoe at me and misses by a long shot. If only he knew who his constant tormentor was. I am a raven. You mess with me and I’ll never forget you. It isn’t in my nature.

A splash of light dances across the bay arousing my curiousity. I depart the grump and his island for the sparkle just as he throws another shoe, giving me another reason to torment him later; perhaps when he is out swimming for his soggy footwear. I caw down my goodbye and follow the light, another instinct I can’t fight. I rise with a count of one-two-three and ride the wind to the twinkle on the shoreline. With a bend in my back, I spiral down to the spot but it’s not Jenn, just the splash of light on a floating can. Perhaps she’s near the cliff we call Big Ben.

I climb steeply with the southwesterly wind on my nose like a plane taking off into the wind. In minutes I’m two hundred feet above the forest with a view of fifty kilometres in each direction. Mom will be pleased; my dear sister will be found in no time.

The west island looks tiny as I soar high above the big bay. I lower my left wing and glide towards the cliff. I spot her right away, sailing fifty feet above the treetops in wide open loops. I caw and flick my wing. Her keen eyes will spot the dark dot in the bright blue sky. I twist into a steep turn towards the cabin with Jenn hot on my trail. We swoop a few times across the front of the cabin to get a rile out of Mom and spiral tightly around Dad who’s on the stone staircase balancing an armful of firewood. He flicks a piece of kindling at me, grazing the fan of my tail. He has much better aim than Captain Dread on the island. The gull dives into Jenn’s shell and I into mine. We stand, stretch, and follow Dad in to eat.

“You stayed clear of the island as I said?” asks Mom with a raised brow as I wipe my feet on the mat.

“Of course, Mom. I haven’t thought of that grump for weeks. All has been forgiven.”

Mom laughs. “Sit down, girls. Let’s eat.”

“Remember Sarah-Jayne, he pulled a gun on your cousins once,” Dad warns as he scoots in his chair.

“He’s too slow to catch me.”

“I thought you said he was forgiven?” Mom asks as she drops a ladle of pasta on my plate.

“Well, I’ve forgiven him but I can’t be responsible for what the raven does.”

“I’d have to disagree,” Mom says with a frown.

“It’s in my DNA, Mom. You wouldn’t understand. You’re a hummingbird. What if there was a law against humming? Do you think you could stop?”

Mom doesn’t respond. She shakes her head, puts the pot on the trivet, and shovels a forkful of pasta into her mouth. We all sit and wait. Mom never lets anything go. She’s always wound tighter than a spring.

She swallows and takes a sip of her water. Her eyes fade out the window. We wait.

We wait as our stomachs ache with the need to eat. I will not be caught with a mouthful of food when she strikes. Bird strikes are known to be dangerous so I must be ready.

Her eyes flick from the horizon and lock on mine. Bingo. Dad takes a bite.

“Honey?” she asks in the tone that’s only for Dad with her green eyes still glued to mine.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbles, unable to say much else with a mouthful of pasta.

“Since we’re animals and can’t control our animal needs...” She pauses like he’s supposed to understand where she’s going with this.

He swallows his food with a gulp like all the water was stripped from his throat.

His brows rise with a face full of confusion.

“Honey, I’d appreciate your support here,” Mom says sharply with eyes of steel.

“What?” Dad asks impatiently. Has she turned on him now? Can’t any of us just eat our meal? What was the point in me searching out Jenn asap if Mom forces us to eat cold pasta anyway?

Mom’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “I’d appreciate it if you’d drill into Sarah-Jayne’s head the importance of forgiveness.”

We all look to Dad. He’s the only one who laughs at her bad joke. Dad’s a pileated woodpecker.