I stood before the large picture window in our kitchen this morning and watched a Coopers Hawk systematically devour a small bird. Bit by bit he picked it apart until there was nothing left but a few feathers fluttering in the breeze.

This window looks out upon our side yard which is dominated by an apple tree, a pluot tree, and two cherry trees in various stages of spring awakening. Just beyond our neighbor’s fence stands a tall, dead plum tree. I spied the Coopers Hawk going about its breakfast business on one of the large limbs of this tree. This was an immature bird who’s markings are quite different from those of an adult so it took me a few minutes to correctly ID it. What a striking bird! It looked to be about a foot and a half tall. Its long tail feathers, horizontally striped in alternating bands of dark and light brown hung over the branch where it was perched. Its wing feathers were dark brown with scattered patches of white. When it turned to the side I noticed its breast streaked in light brown and white, its hooked beak and yellow eyes intent on gobbling up its prey.

I knew that I was witnessing something special and not often observed by humans. This was the same bird that I spotted in the same tree four days ago. I was hoping to see it again but never thought that I’d be treated to such a show. There’s much mystery surrounding the workings of nature, especially the behavior of animals. The goings about of animals is more often than not hidden from our view. Equal amounts of patience, luck and awareness of my surroundings came into play this morning as the scene with the hawk unfolded outside our kitchen window. I could just as easily have missed it but I always scan these trees hoping to spot something special.

While reading up on the Coopers Hawk in my bird guide, I learned that it preys mainly on small birds which it catches in mid-flight. It can often be found around bird feeders. On any given day I routinely observe ten or more species of songbirds flittering around our suet-filled feeder. While the hawk was feeding, our yard was devoid of birds and birdsong. With an apex avian predator in their midst, they knew better than to hang around.  With such variety and easy pickings this Coopers Hawk will most surely be back.

When I first met you you were wrinkled and red, covered in that white powdery stuff, fists clenched, eyes closed, wisps of hair dark and damp and plastered to your scalps. A few inches of umbilical chord, your lifeline to mom, was left protruding from your soon to be belly buttons. I asked the nurse, “Can I touch them?” she smiled, “Sure, they’re yours.” She handed me a pair of scissors, the metal gleaming in the blinding lights of the delivery room. I did a symbolic snip at the end of each of your umbilical cords and you were off, you lives on this earth just begun.

We were new parents suddenly faced with these two impossibly beautiful, totally helpless beings that were entirely dependent on us. This was a difficult to comprehend and overwhelming responsibility. It was and still is scary, terrifying really, how much I loved you, love you, will always love you.

Now you’re toddlers. It’s getting harder every day to contain your endless curiosity and desire to explore and expand the boundaries of your ever expanding world. For you, everything is new and mind blowing and amazing, your hazel eyes, your blue eyes, wide with wonder; touching, tasting, seeking; the dawn of a lifetime of exploration and discovery.

Your first steps are a game changer. The boundaries of your world suddenly have no boundaries. If we were to turn you loose outside you’d keep walking to the ends of the earth or whenever you run out of energy, whichever comes first, with nary a backwards glance. Your world is exploding with color and sound and tastes and wondrous aromas. A hummingbird is magic, tulips and daffodils miracles of color. We can barely keep up with you on this open ended psychedelic adventure called life.

Birthday cakes come and go, up to your elbows in frosting. Sleepless nights for us. Diapers, diapers, diapers! Story time at bedtime. You absorb these wondrous words and images like little sponges, your appetites are voracious for knowledge, your desire to experience and to know show no limits… trips to the ER, fevers, cuts and bruises, worry, worry, worry. I’ll take the sickness and injuries if you could somehow give them all to me.

Did we blink? We must have because somehow you’re both off to preschool, climbing the steps of your new school with your new clothes, new shoes, tiny backpacks strapped to your backs. The door close behind you. The only tears were ours.

The years tick by, the wheel picks up speed. No matter how hard we try to slow it down it just keeps going ‘round and ‘round as it should.

Kindergarten…grade school…just when we’re all in a groove, boom! Another  milestone comes around. Gotta roll with it, evolve right along with you both…More birthdays, more cakes, more frosting finally gets into your mouths instead of all over your bodies. The candle count is rising. You’ve learned to ride bicycles? When did that happen? Training wheels are on then they’re off, a push from us and off you pedal into your future. You’re wobbly at first and there are many falls but you grow steadier and more self assured with each spin of the wheels.

Artwork on the fridge, a hundred pieces of original art drawn just for us. Like Van Gogh you sign your own names at the bottom of each masterpiece. The days stretch behind and before me. The four of us plus kitty become a tight unit. It’s called a family. So this is how a family should be! Loving and warm, sharing and encouraging and supportive.

T-ball, baseball, soccer, basketball, climbing, skateboarding, sports is a thread that has run through both of your lives for as long as you could run or throw or kick a ball. Wins, losses, tears and smiles. Guiding you through the ups and downs. So proud and bursting with joy just watching you compete. So adorable in your uniforms. When it starts to become all about winning some of the joy fades.

Grade school gone in a flash. First day of school photos on our front lawn, growing taller, filling out a little more each day. The “little kidness” in your faces gradually replaced by a more mature look…Junior high, it’s getting “real”. School suddenly no longer all rainbows and unicorns. Challenges, struggling to fit in. I desperately want to make everything ok even though in my heart I know that I can’t. Your independence grows, you start to pull away. It’s subtle at first, your wings are getting stronger, the desire to fly becomes more powerful with each passing day. Your mom and I watch these test flights with a mixture of joy, pride and sadness, it’s a bittersweet experience that only a parent can truly understand.

High school hits like a tsunami! One of you loves it and thrives, the other struggles to fit in. Remembering my own struggles in high school, I think I can understand some of your mind. High school will be just a blip on your radar screen, but the only way out is through. The focus is now on friends and social life and challenging mom and dad; questioning, never stop questioning. Seeing you put up your walls is difficult. You’re pulling away. It’s nothing personal and I’ve got to remind myself that this distance that you’re putting between mom and me is an inevitable part of growing up. So I take the conversations and time spent together when and where I find them, knowing that in time this distance will grow shorter.

I love you both with a ferocity that I never dreamed possible, an intensity of feelings that I had no previous experience to compare to. The pride I feel over the beautiful, creative, caring, bright, funny and fun loving young adults that you’ve become is deep, it wells up inside me and bursts forth from all aspects of my being. Happy eighteenth birthday my darlings!

May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung and may you stay forever young.

Bob Dylan