New Beginnings
    
Eggs aren’t supposed to break. Especially not my eggs. I had dreams for those eggs. Until they were smashed along with the beautiful pale cyan shells freckled with dark blue spots. The eagle flaps away, cackling, clearly pleased with its evil deed.

Seething and devastated, I fly back to the nest, where one egg rests undisturbed, no cracks to be seen. But the pale cyan shell does not adorn the outside, and there are no dark blue specks splattering the egg. Instead, it is a plain gray egg, with no spots. Confusion swirls in my head. This is not my egg. Why would it be in my nest? Why would the eagle destroy all of my eggs and leave one that doesn’t belong to me?

I think about pushing it over the edge, but the feeling I know too well of losing my eggs stops me. This egg is in my nest. It’s mine now. I ruffle up my feathers and plop down onto the egg. I can tell it’s about the same age as my other eggs were, due to hatch any day now.

And so, we progressed like this for several days, the egg safely nestled under me. Soon, I could feel the chick wriggling around and tapping on its shell. Slowly, I stretched my legs and stood, pausing to hear the crisp crack of the egg breaking.

A small beak pokes out of the small hole. A head follows, complete with a few wet feathers along the top. The little chick tumbles out of the shell, rolling around a bit in the nest before coming to a stop in the middle.

I smile, the overcoming happiness that’s happened only once before, last spring with my first clutch of eggs. I vow to make this child mine and to love it like I would love any other child born from a pale cyan egg with dark blue specks.