Pelican Shadows

I am sitting in a tall chair on the second-floor balcony of Gulf Shore Condominium room 208.
I am watching a dear friend, her sister, sister’s hubby, daughters, daughter’s friends, and Jubilee playing in the sand and surf.

I am waiting for the sun to be less direct before I join in.
(Waiting did not work. I waited until 4:30 and still I am burned. It was worth it.)
Today I have been watching shadows on the dunes between my balcony and the beach.
I am watching for pelicans.
I began seeing pelicans on the drive into Port Aransas.

(I love pelicans. I hear Grammie Hannan sing-songing the pelican poem every time I see a pelican.
A peculiar bird is the pelican. His beak holds more than his belly can.
He holds in his beak, enough for a week, and I don’t know how in hellican. Every. Single. Time!
Wouldn’t the pelican be a great symbol for American. Aren’t we a nation of pelicans?
Its beak holds more than its belly can…the American way: more, more, MORE! )

For the past two days, the pelicans have been flying high above the condominium. Flying in tight formation. Gliding on air currents with grace and ease. I see their shadows before I see them.
The arrival of the shadows is dramatic.
Seeing the shadow on the ground, I know when and where to look.
Swooping in like F-16 fighter jets, I sense them before I see them.
Something about the air. I sense them with my body before I am aware of them with my eyes or ears.
The shadow is my invitation to look up and see what is there.
Seeing the shadow to know what is there?

Is there something my shadow can tell me?
I don’t see myself.
I see my hands.
I see my feet.
I see my legs.

With a mirror, I see a reflection.
With a mirror, I do not see me.

I look out from inside of my body to see the world.
Where do I look to see me?

Me lives inside of myself.
Me is not 56.
Me does not have gray hair and sun damaged skin.
Me is not 10-ish pounds overweight.
Me doesn’t have trouble fitting into last year’s jeans.
Me sees the world through my eyes.
Where do I look to see me?

Watching for the pelicans has me considering my shadow.
Looking down I know when to look up to see the pelicans.
Looking down at my shadow, might I learn to look up and see me?

My shadow is tall and lean.
Sometimes my shadow leads.
Sometimes my shadow follows.

The shadow announces the presence of the pelicans.
I am wondering what my shadow reveals.
Seeing my shadow and looking up, what will I see?
I can’t touch the soaring pelicans.
My shadow can.