The Birds Know First: Signs That a Long Night Is Ending

Writing as therapy, they say. But I didn't know what to write.

That is how one page in my notebook begins, from a grey evening last February. And then, almost without deciding to, I wrote this:

Life is a strange gift. You know it is very precious, but it is so hard to understand what goes where.

Some people can simply enjoy the beauty of things without needing to know what lies underneath. I think that must be lovely. I have never been able to do it. I dig. I dig until I lose myself in it, turning everything over, looking for the meaning beneath the meaning.

What will I find? I wrote that I didn't know. Either a rare diamond, or a cozy little grave I had dug for myself without noticing.

That is the risk of being a woman who digs. Depth can give you treasure. It can also swallow you.

And yet, on that same page, there is one stubborn line: Somehow I know my path still hides so much.

I didn't feel it. I knew it, the way you know something without proof.

Because back then, I was walking on autopilot. One foot in front of the other. Morning, evening. Morning, evening. And I kept thinking: it cannot be like this forever. The colorful pages, the ones full of delight and joy, must be waiting for me somewhere.

My only fear was arriving too late. That by the time I reached them, my eyes would be so used to grey that I would no longer see the brightness of the colors. Only a few glints of light.

It is October now. I won't pretend the colors have come. They haven't, not yet.

But something has changed. It feels like the very end of a long night. The sky is not bright, but it is no longer black. There is a shy, pale light at the edge of it. And I can hear the birds, the way they sing only in the early morning, before anyone else is awake.

Birds always know first. They begin singing before the sun appears, because they can feel that the night is over.

That is where I am. I cannot see the steady sunlight yet. But I know the night is ending.

And I have decided to trust the birds.

If you can't hear the birds yet, that's alright. Where are you tonight: still deep in the night, or somewhere near the edge of morning?

Would you like to share your answer?

I read every answer myself. It stays private unless you say otherwise.

If you are in crisis or thinking about harming yourself, please reach out to local emergency services or a crisis line in your country right now. You deserve immediate support.

With love, from HerWay

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