The world from Aquila's eye

The spark

To think that all that had happened could possibly have started with the mundane event of a rainy day. Aquila was a dreamer; she was always thinking of something, and today's topic happened to be the past. She sighed and shuffled a little closer to the trunk of the tree upon which she perched. Today was a lot like that day, all those years ago.

The sky was a canvas of swirls of grey white and colours in between. It had rained during the night, but not a droplet was to be seen by day. It was one of those days when the world was wet and cold and grey, but could still be astoundingly beautiful if you looked at it with a twinkle in your eyes.

But on that day; the one that played an essential role in her future, she hadn't yet known that the world could look bright when things seemed bleak.

She remembered it so well. She had spent the entire day in the nest, waiting for her parents to come home. Having only recently learnt to fly, she still needed rest days in between flying. Not to mention that she wasn't allowed to leave the nest without permission; courtesy to her over-adoring parents.

Her mom was kind, patient, and loving. She never raised her voice, but had a quiet authoritive air about her, that made other eagles respect and listen to her.

Her dad was a big. He was jolly and outgoing. He could be a strict eagle, but he was kind and just, and always knew how to make Aquila smile.

She had been waiting patiently the whole day for her parents to come home, but by the time the sun was dancing on the horizon, she was almost in tears. When she saw her dad flying towards her with great flaps of his giant wings, she burst out crying in relief.

He swooped towards her and enveloped her in his ginormous wings, concern showing in his aspectabund eyes.

"Hush now Aquila," he reasured her, "I'm here. Everything is going to be just fine."

Neither of her parents had ever stayed away that long before, but with her dad speaking to her calmly and soothingly, she soon quieted down.

"I hate rainy days," she said.

To this day, Aquila cannot imagine how that particular thought came to mind, but it did.

"Oh, but I love them," said her father, "why do you hate them?"

"They're so dreary and gloomy and it just looks awful."

"But that's exactly what makes them beautiful," said he.

Aquila looked at him as if he'd lost his head.

"That doesn't make any sense whatsoever," she said.

Her father just smiled and pointed to a small raindrop that clung to a stick in their nest.

"Doesn't that silver droplet of water just look magical to you?" He asked, "I mean, how many raindrops do you personally know, that would cling like that to a twig, before letting go in order for us to hear the music it makes when it drops to the ground?"

She sat, astounded, and really listened for the first time in her young life. And she heard it: music. The raindrops pitter-pattered on the ground, the cricked sang their shrill tunes, and the rest of the animals could be heard preparing for the evening. And if she listened really closely, she thought she could even detect the setting sun adding in its symphony of colours.

"I hear it!" She excitedly exclaimed, "Daddy, can colours also have music then?"

"Why yes," he answered with a smile, "a clever girl with a clever question. Anything can have music, if you but look at it with a sparkle in your eyes Aquila. God made us and this wonderful world, who are we to say something is dreary, when it's actually just undiscovered beauty?"

So as the two of them sat and watched the amazing oranges and reds of the sunset, Aquila's eyes attained something that she would always have, no matter what.

She recieved her spark.