Grit

It’s been three or maybe four years since I first noticed her. She is sitting quietly in the front garden, unmindful of my presence.

She’s the same one that I have been seeing every now and then, only this time she appears a bit older; not tired.

She could have been ordinary but there’s something that separates her from the rest. And if it wasn’t for that one thing, I would have never recognised her.

Cleverly balancing herself, she begins to peck quickly for whatever interests her in the green grass. I know how difficult it must be for her to live like this everyday. Yet, she’s here just like that.

I can only imagine the pain she must have endured the first time and how hard it would have been for her to train herself to land so perfectly.

And if there’s a sign of her grit, it’s that after all these years she hasn’t given up.

Hopping around on one leg with the other cleanly cut just above the ankle, she’s about to take off. I pull out my phone to capture a shot but she’s too quick. Maybe next time.