Fresh Air and Sunshine

I am waking to the sound of a rafter of turkeys in my back yard and the woods beyond. The other morning there was one roosting on the outdoor end table, another on the trellis, 6 under the birdfeeder, one sleeping in the middle of the lawn and a male in the woods strutting about in full plumage. Turkeys are relatively new to the area in the span of my lifetime – we didn’t grow up with them- and now they outnumber the cardinals and the robins-at least in my yard.

Growing up in the wilds of North Haven we had acres of woods to explore and camp out in and build forts in -you could easily get lost on a hiking adventure- and our mom sure wasn’t able to reach us by cell phone. There were pheasants and quail and seeing a deer was a rarity. The creek behind our house was filled with blue claw crabs, eels, and even an occasional bass could get through when the tide was high enough -though the channel had been gradually closing due to years of change and sedimentation. Oh, what a joyous childhood we had.

I never felt a push to be more or achieve more or reach for the stars- just as those turkeys (perhaps not a good analogy) grew on fresh air and sunshine - so had we. Loved, fed and provided for. I wonder daily if that was enough? A form of growing up that didn’t include pre-k applications and prep schools. Was it enough to grow up on fresh air and our inner yearnings? The push and pull of our own visceral tides? Should I have wanted more, been more, achieved more? Has the freedom to become overshadowed the freedom to just be?

Our education did include wonderful novels, vocabulary lists, world history. Doors that invited us in to another purview. We were in proximity to one of the finest cities in the world - filled with all of the accouterments – but rarely were able to experience them. My older sister did take us all in on the train to the World’s Fair-it was an adventure I will always remember. I can’t compare wooded trails and wildlife to season tickets to the ballet or visits to MOMA -but there surely is beauty in both.

The airy spaces within were filled by something other than text books, study guides and scholastic aptitude tests. Words, images, dreams, quandaries, nature, music, salt water and an old borrowed guitar. It seemed to be enough. But perhaps I will always wonder if it was.

The turkeys are gobbling and clucking again this morning-nests full of warm eggs anticipating an open world to explore.