Mary is a swift and agile lady whose eyes are bright and radiant with an amber hue. Staring into her eyes is like bathing in soft sunlight through the canopy of the rain forest: every so often, a moist drop of dew will splash across the floor, stringing up excitement and bliss. Mary is small but mighty, whose 5-centimeter body can fly across two continents twice a year. Mary is also an ordinary girl whose boyfriend, Jack, will not see her until she crosses two giant deserts in Africa, an ocean, and three tall and snowy mountains. Mary is an extraordinary and ordinary barn swallow who never gives up, even if it means lying to herself.
Another sandstorm devoured the Sahara desert. Mary is only one-fifth into the formidable dessert path towards London, her sweet, sweet home for babymaking. This year’s lack of rainfall deprived Mary of a sufficient food supply in the drying meadow, a place supposed to replenish her before the brutal desert. With an empty belly, Mary conjured up courage: if it’s painful, let me make it shorter.
The wind rose, curling tons of piercing sand particles with it, heading her way. Everything was torn apart, slaving and moving along.
Will I make it? Mary’s fear took hold of her wings, and she landed on a thin and drooping branch of a desert thyme. The whole body of the thyme starts shaking. It first felt like a jiggle, like gentling nudging Mary: there’s no more thyme(time), go! Then it started trembling, almost shaking Mary off. The fear, however, trapped Mary’s feet and wings. Can I possibly survive this? Can I outsmart this storm? Mary had absolutely no clue. The wind is howling, with its sandy saliva touching Mary’s cheek, even from miles away.
“Sometimes you have to lie about it.” Grandma’s spirited voice rose at Mary’s ear. Grandma Jojo loved to hide food for the neighbor’s single bullfinch mom, and whenever Grandpa complained about the lack of breakfast, that’s what Jojo would mutter to her.
Mary conjured up courage and decided to lie to herself: I, a barn swallow, can cross this desert, and I’m not afraid and have a plan. With one last push by the desert thyme, Mary took off, in a weird angle she’s never done in her life: straight to the sky. She fly and fly and fly, until the dark brown sandy air turns into clear brisky wind, she didn’t stop, she kept on rising, feeling even lighter as her empty stomach has off-loaded so much unnecessary body weight. Eventually, a drop of water formed at her peak: Mary touched a piece of cloud who were hesitant to rain just yet. Mary looked down: that formidable sandstorm looked like a funny ball of cat fur, zooming around slowly as if just waking up from a nap.
Mary flapped her wings, brushed off some residual sand, and continued northbound towards her baby daddy.