The Nest
We used to have a small spruce tree right next to the stairs leading to the patio. Every spring robins would nest there and they would leave their perfect cadbury eggs dangerously close to curious fingers. "Don't go too close to the nest or you'll scare the mother away," they would tell me. And every day I would walk down the stairs, going in slow motion once I neared the nest, savoring each peep into the opening in the branches.
I often thought about how tragically magical it would be if something should happen to the mother and I had to raise them. I could picture it all so clearly, checking on them under the heat lamp, hearing that life-changing crackle of the chicks hatching, growing close with them and fulfilling my Disney princess destiny... Everytime I passed the nest my mind was infected with a sick tactile compulsion.
My best friend was over one evening and I proudly showed her the robin's eggs. As soon as Hailey saw them she was overcome by the same urge. We secretly discussed my plan and she agreed that we would each take one and leave the rest for the mother. With my parents just inside, we made our move. I crept close to their tiny twig bed and delicately picked up one of the warm, blue eggs. Wanting to conceal it, I quickly tried to slip it into the pocket of my jeans. The shell immediately cracked under the pressure of the seams. The embryo seeped into my skin like a splash of self-loathing. Desperate, we went for another and another until the nest was empty and my ribcage was full of hot shame.
We ran upstairs to shower the viscous bird off of ourselves and tried to hide our salty eyes during dinner. That night held no sleep as I was inundated with images of the mother robin returning to her nest only to find her precious clutch gone. As my punishment, I let my projections of her shock and sorrow consume me and went without breakfast the next morning, but it was never enough. Even now, whenever I am home I think of our grabbing hands and the dripping yoke and the tiny embryos filling my pocket and I hate myself.