I hate to admit when I’ve been anxious about something, especially something like a phone call or letter. But I was. And when it came, it was incredible.
I heard a knock, not a tiny little tap, but a knock on my door. When I opened it, all I could see was a hummingbird. It didn’t come in, didn’t fly away, just hovered in front of me like it had something to say. I shut the door, and immediately, the knock again. The hummingbird was still there. I shut it again, and when the knock came for the third time, I politely went upstairs to my room.
But the knocker of my door wasn’t giving up so easily. Since I hadn’t recognized him when I saw him, he had to try other methods. It flew up to my room and pecked his arrow-tip beak against my window. When I looked and saw him, I could have peed my pants. It was scary, being stalked by a miniature little critter with wings beating too fast to see. So, I did what any sensible person would – I shut the blinds.
Little did I know that Mr. or Ms. Humdinger wasn’t anywhere near giving up. I heard the beak again from behind the blinds, but this time it was different, more of a clinking sound, as if it were crushing ice. And soon, I realized why. The thing was pointing a hole through my window. In about half a minute, the tiny little avian had drilled its way into my room and was hovering directly in front of my face.
My first instinct was to cry. After this, I considered swatting it, like a giant, feathered mosquito. But my thoughts shot back to the hole in the window and the powdered glass on the carpet below it. The thing could drill holes in glass with its face. Doing anything aggressive might end another hole directly into my skull. I decided against touching it at all. So, we both stood there…well, it was flying…actually hovering…staring at one another. Then, it swooped down to my dresser. Unintentionally, I let out a little “oh!” as I saw its still wings for the first time. They were decorated in bright yellow which contrasted nicely with its vibrant, dark blue plumage. I was just beginning to think it was cute, when it reached its ice-pick-tipped beak under one of its wings and pulled out an envelope much bigger than its entire body. It pointed the envelope in my direction.
It seemed sensible to just take the envelope. Maybe it would go away. I reached for it, slowly in case it decided to try anything. I gently pulled the envelope from the beak. Across the front, in gold-foiled lettering was my name in huge, Corinthian style lettering. My middle finger swiped what felt like a wad of plastic on the underside, and I flipped it over to see a bright orange wax seal. Imprinted there was the letter “J” in the same lovely script. After breaking the seal, I pulled out the piece of parchment covered in giant swooping letters, then gasped aloud at what I saw:
You have been accepted to the Teacher’s Education Program.
We are happy that you have joined our family,
First meeting to be held tomorrow, 4PM
Wizard gnome, butterfly garden
School board building.
Me. I’m going to finish school... to be a teacher! I looked back towards the bird and found only its absence. And as I looked towards my window, I realized that when it had flown away, it had taken its damage with it.
“Take the plunge, while you still can.”