Zara wasn’t as obsessed as me, but she did it eagerly for me.
Zara.
Not even the darkest day of my life could cast a shadow dark enough to eclipse my love for birding. Instead of driving me away from it, the loss did the opposite.
Out here, doing this, there’s no space for sadness or emptiness. No regret or remorse. There’s only soul-healing tranquility.
And joy.
I’d forgotten how simple and perfect this can be. And the weird thing is, I don’t know why I ever stopped.
“So caught up in the day to day . . .” I mutter quietly, my thoughts escaping.
“What’s that?” Reed asks.
“I was just thinking how I’ve been so caught up in the monotony of life that I haven’t done this in far too long.”
I lower the binoculars, hand them to him, and take the notebook. “Thanks for reminding me of my joy, Reed.”
His returning smile makes a home in a part of my soul that’s long been vacant. “You’re welcome, cookie.”
The earnestness of the moment and the weight of his gaze on me soon become too much.
Internally shaking myself out of his spell, I flick my gaze to the tree tops to find the beauty. “He’s still up there.”
“Are you gonna tell me what I’m looking for, or am I on my own? There are lots of birds out here.”
Quashing a giggle, I move closer to him and try to line up our faces as best as possible despite the height difference. I point at the bird, hoping he’ll align his view with mine. He does.
“See that group of trees that resembles a lopsidedW?”
He shuffles behind me, providing me with oodles of naughty imagery. After he lowers his chin to my shoulder, his chest brushes my back with his deep inhale. “Fuck, you smell good.”
My vagina slow blinks.
Twice.
I’d like to tell him to stop being gross because there’s no chance my sweat smells good. But knowing Reed, he’d find a way to turn that around on me. So I stiffen my pointer finger arm, silently attempting to focus him on the tree line.
“Okay, I see theW. Now what?”
“He’s on the tree that makes the left part of theWshape. Look way up at the top. You’re searching for a tiny black and white little guy. He’s perched on a branch coming out of the right side of that tree. About five feet away from the trunk.”
I wait for him to find it while my eyes begin seeking out other birds. Not for my life list. Just because. I spot two other species before he finds the warbler.
“Got it.” Stepping out from behind me—thank goodness—Reed shifts to my side and lifts the binoculars to his eyes.
After a few seconds, he proudly announces, “I see him. Put him on my life list.”
“Congrats on lifer number one, Reed.”
He keeps the binoculars up, clearly enjoying the view of the warbler.
Then he smiles.
And I melt.
It isn’t a flirty grin or a smirk. It’s genuine happiness. He isn’t putting on a show for me.
