The swifts
I was sitting on my terrace having lunch on a cloudy day in early summer. I had just said goodbye to my youngest son for confession. So I was in a bit of a delicate state. I had noticed earlier in the spring that a flock of swallows had begun circling over our block, which delighted me greatly. The familiar, intensifying screech approached me again, and at the same time a flock of tar swallows made a swooping flight right in front of my eyes, darting wildly here and there between the courtyard buildings, slicing through the roofs, only to disappear again in the blink of an eye high up in the sky. Their joyous aerial acrobatics were full of the freedom and carefree nature of the anticipated northern summer.
It was as if the birds had greeted me as a friend from the distant past. They comforted my melancholy mind: don't worry, don't worry, it's summer, it's summer! A rush of emotion took me by surprise, and water began to run down my cheeks. Mixed in with the feeling was the joy of reunion, an overwhelming, indefinable longing, a sense of the passage of time and timelessness, of the chain of generations, of the uniqueness of the moment and of eternity. I travelled back 40 years with the swallows, to a grandmother's house in Savoie, where they were present every summer in her country garden. The sound transported me to a feeling of summer holiday freedom, carefree, the feel of fresh grass and stinging stones on bare feet, the smell of hay and manure, shooting cows, beloved cousins, uncles and aunts, exciting games and adventures, swimming trips along bumpy dirt roads, honeysuckle, cow's milk, pudding, summer snacks and sleeping in the barn attic listening to the rain. Adults told me that you could tell if it was going to rain by the swallows. Then they would catch insects at a lower level than usual.
Today, the tar swallows (which are not even swallows, but belong to the swallow family) told me that they have not left me, even though the summers of my childhood are behind me. Summer could still be a light, powerful joy, even if at times bittersweet. They reminded me of what is the unquenchable and inexhaustible life force and desire, courage, abandonment, the will to survive, to fulfil one's purpose, to be in one's element. What it is to be small, but incredibly strong and resilient.
How can one wonder how these creatures, which we think of as ordinary, but which have amazing lifestyles, can remain in flight for most of their lives, immediately after leaving the nest, except when nesting. These heavenly lords even sleep and mate in flight. Nature's streamlined flying titans don't need much in the way of sturdy ground beneath their feet, as the air supports them and provides them with food and even nest-building supplies that float on the wind. What confidence, what freedom, what beauty, what adaptability! Deep gratitude and humility flooded my chest as I received the powerful sermon of the tar swallows like a gift with my name written on it.
