I could barely see her, a set of lissome wings held by a gentle wind, a mere speck in a deeply blue and vast horizon. She moved with precision as one knowing her destination. To behold her in flight was sheer magic, a perfect form made more distinct as she neared the shoreline. I could hear the soft rhythmic music of wings as she settled on the beach, several feet away from my camera. This Great White Egret seemed unconcerned with my presence, focused solely on one mission, the hunt for food.

Her day is about survival, a continuous battle against the elements, predators, and hunger. If she is smart and lucky, perhaps a companion will come her way. Perhaps, she will once again, avert a lurking danger, having surely survived the perils of day’s past.  Strong swift wings can carry her to both safety and sustenance.

As a child, I thought birds were special. To be able to fly into the heavens was exhilarating to contemplate. There would be no need for lengthy trips in the backseat of my dad’s station wagon to visit a friend or even the need to ask permission. Remove the middle man. I could simply flap my wings, be wherever I wanted to be in minutes, and still be home in time for dinner. If I was lucky, I might even catch a glimpse of an angel or two sitting on one of those fluffy white clouds.

As an adult, I still admire birds, but my thoughts of wings are more allegory than magical. I need my metaphorical wings daily to lift me when life is difficult and provide courage to move forward when necessary. Wings provide fuel to act on dreams and move forward with goals, even when success seems far away.

I can still soar, even with both feet planted firmly on the ground.