These days, I’m seeing baby crows for the first time. When we moved to this neighborhood, on the first morning we woke up in this house, I wrote, “I feel like I’m going to find myself here.” A year has passed, and I still feel exactly the same way. While I’ve changed a lot in this year, my neighborhood has helped me change. I’ve become more true to myself. I’ve connected more with the people on the street. I’ve escaped the walled-off gated community life and spread my wings to freedom.

Right now, while eating my tahini yogurt on the balcony, I wanted to write down my feelings this morning so I wouldn’t forget. I’ve been seeing baby crows for 3-4 days now. For the first time ever. In a month, I’ll be 41, and I’m surprised I hadn’t seen them before. I’m more “aware” now. Of everything…

The world I live in, my emotions, my feelings, the wind, the heat, the cold, and life itself are so much more beautiful this way. I’ve come off autopilot and I’m observing the world. This is the gift of my 40th birthday.

Those baby crows are so cute. I’m usually a little wary of crows. I’ve seen them attack cats a few times and realized how strong they are. For me, crows are creatures that should be admired from a distance, but now, seeing these baby crows, I see that every strong creature has a beginning, and they reach that strength with tiny, gradual steps. This crow, which will one day be strong enough to challenge many animals, can’t even fly right now. It stays in the same place for days, waiting to gain strength. Its body has grown, but its feathers are still baby feathers, curly. It’s so young that it might turn its head and fall asleep on the edge of the sidewalk in the middle of the day. It’s gathering strength, not rushing… It doesn’t say, “Other members of my species are flying, challenging seagulls, I must too,” it waits patiently because it knows that if it tries now, nature will swallow it up, it won’t allow it.

There’s one baby crow on our street, and another on the next street. Every morning and evening, they’re seen in almost the same places. Every time I go outside, I want to see them and make sure they’re okay, and I also hope they’ve grown stronger and flown away.

This holiday morning, as I write this on my balcony, I’m learning another life lesson from nature and animals. To be able to flap your wings, to fight, to do what you want, and to live freely, you need to prepare patiently. When the right time comes, nature will make it happen… it will say, “Fly, baby,” and then you will fly away without even looking back…