Hummingbird

Things are wonderful, but they haven’t been easy. We had water damage in our kitchen, so in the summer of 2024, they had to demo our kitchen. They removed the sink. They disconnected the dishwasher. They removed our peninsula and ripped up the floors. Now, we are left in a construction site for a kitchen. Something I didn’t think would affect me as much as it has. The kitchen is the central place in the home for me. Probably for most. It is where we gather. Where we create. Where we savor and enjoy. Where we have conversations. Where my daughter should be able to play. But all of this has been missing. For over a year.

Since our kitchen isn’t of much use, I haven’t felt very inspired to cook. Cooking is something that not only brings me joy, but it’s something that I always dreamed of sharing with my daughter. When she was first born, I did. I’d put her in the Bjorn and she’d stay close to me as I cooked. Mixing batters. Pouring into bowls. Chopping and tasting and preparing. But now that she’s more active, I can’t wear her like I used to. I’ve tried putting her in her highchair and giving her a snack or crayons so that I can cook, but that only lasts so long before she wants to get out. And she can’t be on the ripped-up wood floor, so I have to take her into the other room. I kept finding myself with half-cooked dinners or half-baked muffins without time to finish them. And time with her in the kitchen is something I’m craving. Something I’m missing in my life. Something I can’t wait to have again. 

We weren’t able to get the kitchen fixed immediately because our insurance company was refusing to pay. And between the stress of the money and the kitchen and having a one-and-a-half-year-old, my husband and I were fighting more. Things felt stressful. Tense. And even though most of the time we remind each other it will get better, because it always does, there are times it feels really hard. And then old feelings come back. Feelings of being trapped. Of having no way out. Of being in a bad cycle. A toxic cycle. A cycle that feels as if it will never end.

I found myself back in one of those cycles again one weekend. I had a heavy period that was causing me to feel extremely fatigued, but I have a young child who requires a lot of action. A lot of my movement. A lot of my interaction. Which I’m typically joyful to do, but I didn’t have the energy that weekend. We also didn’t have a schedule. We had nowhere we had to be. Nothing to do. If I had been able to relax, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but because I needed to be active, I just felt scattered. Overwhelmed. Like my body didn’t know where to go or what to do. I lost the entire day Saturday to feeling scattered and overwhelmed. Then on Sunday, I realized that I had to change. That I had to do things that could feel relaxing with my daughter and husband while still feeling restful for me. So we went for a long walk in the park in the morning. And then we played outside in the afternoon. And the three of us had a joyful day together. Yet the next day, I found myself struggling again. To find the energy. To feel like things would get better. And then I saw a hummingbird gathering nectar from my flowers. 

I stopped what I was doing. And stared. A creature I rarely see (let alone for minutes at a time) was buzzing only feet in front of me. I usually see them right before they fly away. This time, it sat hovering. Nourishing itself from my flowers. And nourishing me with its presence. And I got to share it with my daughter.

Witnessing the hummingbird reminded me to be present. To find the beauty everywhere I can find it. To let it nourish me. Not to focus on things like not being able to cook in my kitchen. To enjoy the times I have with my daughter and husband. And to just be. 

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Photo by Dulcey Lima on Unsplash