The other day, after dropping Middle Girl at Preschool, I walked home. It was raining out, the streets a slick, soggy mess, but I stopped because I saw something: A little white pigeon.
I am not sure exactly what it was about this particular bird that got me, but I paused and fished around in my bag for my phone to take a picture. Maybe it was that it was unlike most pigeons I see (or don’t see), pigeons that are shades of gray, and camouflaged by the sidewalks on which they scamper. Maybe it was because I was extra-aware, my eyes open to details I otherwise miss. I’m not so sure.
But there was something different about this pigeon. Sure, she was white and not just any white, but a bold beautiful white, pure as snow. And she did a little dance around and around.
And of course I couldn’t leave it at that, that there was a charming pigeon on my stroll home. No. Suddenly, I was thinking about sameness and difference, conspicuousness and camouflage.
Once upon a time, I think I was intent on blending in, on being one of the crew, a blondie, a black-wearer. Safe. More and more though, I feel a desire to be me even if that means I stand out a bit more. Like that little white bird.
Are you willing to be different? Have you at any point in your life tried to blend in? Are you aware of the little details in your days?