© 2009 Karen Van Fossan
So I'm sitting at the dinner table, minding my own business, glancing out the window from time to time. From my designated chair, I can see walkers making their way, the local rabbit's favorite path, and our clunker -- with the windows down -- waiting in the drive.
Suddenly, I hear myself blurt, "There's a robin in the car!"
In seconds flat, Kris and I leap from the table, and out the door.
Sure enough, a baby robin squeaks inside the car, in her young and speckled glory, in the midst of a first flight. She bounces along the back dash, back and forth, around and around, trying to push through the window, which looks like open air, but is a trap.
High on the neighbor's roof, the mother robin, or father robin, hollers with all her might, calling with all his heart -- Come here! Come here!
We throw open the door to the car!
But the baby stays inside, hopping around on the back dash, pressing toward the window.
We run into the house and grab the enormous log we keep for the cats. We prop it on the back dash, making a bridge to the grass.
But the Mama-Papa-Auntie robin continues to call from the roof. The baby continues to panic.
We back away to give the baby space.
But the baby doesn't need space. The baby needs the window to turn to air.
At last, we resort to fear.
We knock on the back window, making a terrible racket.
She scurries away from the window.
Down from the dash.
Down to the seat.
Out the door!
And suddenly, I'm face to face with questions --
Are there obstacles in my life it would be wise to turn away from?
Are there times when the thing I fear the most can help me find my path?