Any addition that would come into our ever extending family was always greeted with, “Oh, she looks just like…” or “he resembles…” and quite often, “Oh, they have the Hvezda gap…(referring to the space between the front teeth).  I suppose we all want to belong, and are forever looking for some sort of proof that it’s true. 

It started with my family. Then the gravel road we lived on. Connecting with each skinned knee, or elbow. The schools we went to. Uniformed by teams and mascots. Robed by bands and choirs. There was always something to connect me, connect us. 

The impermanence of it all, keeps us searching. Keeps me searching. I suppose that’s why I see it — the connection between loved one and bird. I didn’t plan it. It can’t be forced, only recognized. When I placed the new nesting bird next to my Grandma, it was so clear. The same palette. The gathering in. I live somewhere between farm and nest (the lines are all blurred now, in the “was” and the “will be”s). And isn’t it my mother, about to take flight, sporting the same outfit as the next nesting bird. 

I guess you have to want to see it. And I do. I want that for all of us. To see beyond the Hvezda gap. Beyond the divide of politics and nation. To get beyond the differences. Into the blur. The melding. The sweet home of recognition.