The robin’s egg
Today I stepped out of my car and to my delight I found a complete cyan colored Robin’s egg. I pointed it out to my 3 year old hoping it would inspire him about nature. He picked it up tentatively in his hand and threw it on the ground and smashed it. The yolk came pouring out. Tears welled in my eyes. I was overcome with sadness at the death of a robin’s egg. My son smashed his foot down and popped the yolk and mashed it into the shattered shell.
Why was I overcome with grief at the end of a robin’s egg? I know that egg was thrown out of its nest because a baby would never have hatched from it, but it pained me that a mother could callously throw out her child to be. There was still potential in a whole egg. There was hope for a new beginning. Crushing it was symbolic for me, so yes I teared up at the destruction of incredible potential.
Next time I find a robin’s egg, I will hold it tentatively in my hands and hide it in the bush, or bury it in the ground.. where in my heart there is still hope for it. I would quiet my mind that might tell me otherwise because there is something so beautiful and tragic about believing in potential and hope.