Take a Hike...with me

A walk to remember

One morning last week I opened my eyes to pale light streaming through strange curtains. I was asleep in a bed that was not my own. My mind registered the singing of a mockingbird, clear and loud as if it were a midsummer morning. It may not have been summer, but the day promised to be exciting nonetheless. I had only collapsed into this bed, usually occupied by my friend’s son, an hour and a half earlier, fully-clothed and prepared to not sleep a wink. But after that brief respite, the anticipation of the day left me feeling refreshed enough. This day would bring new life. 

Already I heard my friend Caitlin stirring again. I doubt she had gotten much sleep after the night she’d had. Her labor had started at midnight and I joined her shortly after. When it slowed down, we all tried to sleep. When I found Caitlin in the kitchen that morning, she’d already been for a walk trying to get things moving. So I asked to join her. As we stepped out into the cool morning, I kept my eyes glued to our path, afraid Caitlin might step on a loose stone or trip on a crack. But when we rounded the first corner of her suburban block, our ears were greeted (assaulted?) by the loudest mockingbird I’ve ever heard. I immediately looked up, but couldn’t see the bird. It sounded as if he had an amplifier and was singing into a cavernous ravine below; his trills, whistles, screeches, and warbles bounced and echoed around us louder than the car alarms he might often imitate. 

I told Caitlin about how in the summer the mockingbird sings all night, and when I was young I used to think there was an entire flock of birds communicating with each other in the tree outside my window. We paused to listen. You can hear how he makes a variety of calls, but with the same volume and tone. I used to find the mockingbird annoying, especially when it would keep me up at night. But this morning he was welcome company for our hopeful walk.

Once I start talking about nature, it’s hard to get me to stop. I have that exasperating quality of needing to tell you everything I know — or don’t, as the case may be. So between contractions I would point to whatever hedge, tree, or flower we might be next to, and expound on it. We wondered about whether our Maple trees could produce syrup in the right environments, and why wildflowers would more easily grow between the road and sidewalk, but not in people’s lawns. After a few pauses for some serious contractions I said, “I’m only saying all of this to distract you between contractions. Tell me if you’d prefer I be quiet.” She smiled at me and said, “It’s working…keep going.”

I don’t remember much of what I said after that, but I happily chatted while timing the spacing and duration of her contractions. When we passed her house for another go-around, she lamented the state of her lawn. I pointed out that she had salsify growing wildly in the space between her lawn and the street. She asked me if that was good. I told her whether it was good or not, I didn’t know (personally I think all flowers are good, especially “weeds”)…but it’s one of the best flower names to say out loud. It sounds good if you whisper it, growl it, sing it— salsify, salsify, salsify. I am amused very easily. 

We went for one more lap around the block before we headed inside. As we turned the last corner I recalled the walks I took at the end of some of my pregnancies. Even though I knew nothing about Charlotte Mason or nature study, and had no nature facts with which to distract myself, those walks are seared into my memory, for obvious reasons. This special walk will join them, not because of the impromptu lesson on mockingbird calls I shared with Caitlin, or the number of small naturey things we discussed, but because I was there to bear witness to the greatest work of all—new life. I consider myself blessed each time I get to see a mama deer leading her fawns through a thicket, or a hummingbird sitting bravely on her nest despite the dangers around her, or a duck family gliding serenely through turbulent waters. What a privilege to see God’s creation being guided into the world. I felt so proud standing beside my friend as she faced each minute, each contraction, each uncertainty, with faith that God would make all things beautiful in His time. I can imagine no walk more beautiful than this…to walk beside a friend awaiting the breath of life. 

That night I collapsed into bed before dinner, while the sun was still streaming through the window. Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about the honor I had been given that day, to stand beside my friend and to hold her beautiful new babe only hours after his arrival earthside. I drifted off to sleep, both overwhelmed and satisfied by the joy of walking beside my friend on this special day. The mockingbird that sang outside my window through the night didn’t disturb me at all.

Sarah Jonnalagadda 2023