In the spirit of trying to mix things up, I decided to leave more windows open last night to cool my apartment; it’s been a scorcher in Athens. Sometimes, getting yourself out of your habits even with the smallest act can help you move closer to achieving a goal. I walked out of my bedroom, visited the bathroom, and proceeded to the living room to open the balcony doors and let the refreshing morning air enter.
I stood in the doorway for a few moments and noticed two small birds were flying around in circles, almost playing, flying up to the ceiling on our balcony area, touching for a moment, and then back out to the open. I stood a few feet away and then decided to sit on the couch and watch them for a while, probably with the added benefit of avoiding meditating and yoga this morning.
I started to take a video of them in their carefree splendor. While watching intently, I began to notice they were almost stopping when they touched the ceiling; I had never known birds to be able to act this way, and I thought it strange. As I realized what I was watching, one of them proceeded to enter the apartment, and that is when I knew they weren’t birds. They were bats. As the bat swooped within a couple of feet of me sitting peacefully on the couch, I let out a blood-curdling shriek, one I have never heard myself make at any point in the past, and ran into the hallway.
The bat flew around in the living room for a few circles and then proceeded to continue with its playtime on the balcony. Then came the need to close the balcony doors, so they didn’t enter again. Every time I would take a few steps towards the doorway, the bat would swoop into the balcony area, which would send me scurrying off back down the hall while also trying not to wake the neighbors. After about 15 minutes of this back and forth game of chicken with the bats, I finally was able to close the screen doors and solidify myself as the second chicken in the family. (Those of you who know me personally may have caught the pun).
I then called my father and told him all about what happened and asked what I should do as if all fathers come with an internal how-to manual for anything scary. That’s when I realized we will always be our parents’ children, and they will always be our parents, and some things never change. We will still run to them like we did as children when the boogie man was hiding under our bed, but it’s so much easier to get them to believe us when we are adults.
