It was October.
I loved Octobers. I loved the cold snap in the air, the sharp crunch to the leaves. I loved not feeling hot and sweating. Most of all, I loved that cooler temperatures meant my wife snuggled with me a lot more at night.
Normally on a Sunday afternoon we'd be outside doing something simple, enjoying a little time together. Today though, Bella'd been forced by the women of La Push to attend her own baby shower so it was just me.
Walking along First Beach I watched a group of waterbirds take flight. Startled by my presence, they lifted dark, sleek bodies from the grey surface of the ocean and circled the bay, turning as one in the air.
This was another thing I loved about October: the annual return of migrating flocks. Years ago, Bella had told me we were on the Pacific flyway, one of the principal migration routes for birds heading south after a summer in the arctic. She said they crossed the Gulf of Alaska and headed straight down the coast to California or Mexico to shelter for the winter.
One of the joys of having a biology teacher for a wife was that I learned the reasons behind everything I'd been watching my whole life. Of course Bella couldn't tell me why or how the birds knew where to go. No one really understood that. Bella said it was just something they did, something they instinctively knew how to do.
I had told her it seemed a like crazy way to live life – travelling to a new place every six months with all your friends and relations. No roots, no real sense of home. She'd just laughed at me and said the birds were lucky: they had two homes.
The waterfowl disappeared out to sea and after the flurry of their activity, the beach seemed overly calm in contrast to my restlessness. I paced, remembering what Bella'd said about two homes. I'd always wondered that if not for me, would she have found another home elsewhere? I still worried that settling here after our marriage wasn't the best thing for her. I disliked the thought that I might be the only thing tying her to this nowhere of a place. It was my home but it didn't have to be hers. I wanted her to live where she desired, not where she felt obligated.
Over the last few months though, watching the slow but steady growth of her belly, I'd becoming surer that Bella wanted to be here, and not only because of me. She kept telling me that she wanted roots and a family together in La Push. I was starting to believe her.
Today I felt like the migrating birds: loving Bella was something I did, something I instinctively knew how to do. I realised if that was enough for the survival of dozens of avian species, it'd be enough for us.
The epiphany made me love October even more.
A/N - Written for the August 2011 drabble challenge at Live Journal's TATS community. The challenge was word association - read over: "birds, flight, return, cold, new, shelter, together, roots, growth" and write about what comes to mind. The drabble didn't have to contain all or any of the words listed - just whatever was inspired after reading them.