Murmuration

A dance of life

Like the birds in the air, the children moved about the field in waves swooping back and forth and around. The flock of children seemed to have a collective mind that choreographed their play. Their sound also moved in sweeping crescendo and diminuendo. Sal was not sure if the birds above were mimicking the children on the ground or vice versa.

Vincent finally showed up at the park bench and sat down next to Sal. The two old men looked at each other but said nothing for several minutes.

Finally Vincent spoke up, “I went to my grandson’s tenth birthday party yesterday. Instead of a birthday cake he had birthday fudge brownies. Have you ever heard of such a thing? He told me he hates cake. What kid hates cake? Jesus. But you know, that fudge brownie sure was good. I think the kid might be on to something.”

Sal laughed silently.

“I asked the boy how he felt now being in double digits; the big one-oh. He shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Well, I guess I’m now one year closer to death.’ I couldn’t believe he said that. What kid thinks like that? When I was a kid I always wanted to be a year older.”

“Me, too. I never thought about death when I was a kid.”

“Well, I think about it now.”

“Me, too.” Without looking at Vincent, Sal spoke as he watched the action on the field, “In my next life I’m not sure if I want to come back as a kid or a bird.”

“A bird? Seriously? You know, kids live a lot longer than birds.”

Sal laughed as he turned to Vincent, “I guess we proved that. But is life about quantity or quality? If we wanted quantity we could come back as a tree and live for hundreds or even a thousand years.”

“Yeah, but then we couldn’t dance.”

“Oh Vincent. What is it with you and dancing? I can’t even remember the last time I danced.”

“That’s your problem Sal. Dancing is the expression of life. You’re not expressing life. Man, I still go dancing every Friday night like I always have. Dancing is good for the mind, body and soul. The problem now is that not many women want to dance with an old fart like me — that is until they see me dance. Then they practically line up to dance with me.”

“Give me a fucking break. You’re so full of shit.” Sal returned his gaze to the birds and kids.

“Come out to the club Friday. You’ll see.”

“Geez, I can’t even remember the last time I went to a club,” Sal pointed toward the sky, “See all those birds whirling through the air practically in unison? You could kind of say that they are dancing… but not in pairs. The whole flock is dancing with itself. I think I know your answer but would you rather be a bird in that flock flying about or would you rather be sitting on a park bench observing the incredible beauty of what those birds are doing?”

“I’d rather be a bird flying with the other birds. That would surely feel awesome. And you?”

“Well, keep in mind that those birds never get to see how beautiful they are collectively being. Sure they can experience the joy of their aerial dance but they can never see and luxuriate in their collective beauty. What I would like to be is a man sitting on a park bench watching their dance while simultaneously being one of the birds. Now that would be awesome!”

“How do you propose to do that, Sal?”

“I dunno. I haven’t figured that out yet. It sure would be cool though.”

Vincent scratched his thinning white hair, “What I’d really like to be is one of those kids playing out on that field. I can still dance but I really can’t run anymore. Gosh it would be great to once again have the energy of a kid.”

“So do you think the kids are imitating what the birds are doing above them or are the birds imitating what the kids are doing below them?”

“What I think, Sal, is that you spend way too much time sitting on park benches.”

Both men laughed.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction.

Speaking of park benches…