Sometimes love is not about holding someone close, but about quietly encouraging them to spread their wings when they are ready.
Once upon a time there were a brother and sister, Salman and Sarah, who loved each other dearly. Now imagine them not as children, but as two white egrets on a quiet spring afternoon.
One egret sat on the ledge of a window, peering out into the distance. It looked as though it wanted to fly, yet seemed perfectly content where it rested. There was a calmness in its sharp, watchful eyes, its white feathers glowing softly in the afternoon sun. Every now and then it would shift, almost as if preparing to take flight, and then settle back again, comfortable in stillness.
The spring air carried a gentle warmth that made the afternoon feel slow and unhurried. It was the kind of day meant to be observed quietly from afar. The branches and leaves of a nearby tree swayed lightly, and the egret seemed almost a part of them, peaceful and at ease.
Then suddenly another egret swooped in.
It landed nearby, feathers slightly ruffled, its voice sharp and restless as it called out to the first. It seemed to say, “Are you still here? Don’t you want to try and fly?”
She looked at him with quiet serenity.
He shifted impatiently, almost as though urging her again. “You can’t sit here forever,” his presence seemed to say. “You must fly someday.”
For a while they kept each other company. She nudged him gently with her beak, and together they pecked at the scattered seeds below. Then the restless egret flew up to a branch on a nearby tree, though he continued to watch her closely.
She sat there for a moment, thoughtful, a softness in her gaze. She looked toward him, then toward the open space ahead.
Slowly, hesitantly, she spread her wings.
With a small burst of courage, she lifted into the air and flew to another branch, clinging carefully as she settled.
The restless egret watched her, no longer calling out, his feathers settling in the warm breeze. For a moment they simply looked at each other beneath the quiet spring–summer sun one who had waited, and one who had gently urged.
And in that quiet understanding, they remained close, each on their own branch, yet never far from the other.
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