The egg

I’ve been musing on the egg lately. Maybe it’s my desire for spring to unfold that points me to the egg. Perhaps it’s because Easter approaches. Maybe it’s the memory of my grandfather’s chicken farm; in that memory, I approach the nest, little boy-scared, wanting to gather the eggs, afraid of a peck on my hand as I reach under the hen for the prize.

I’ve always liked eating eggs. They seem like such a complete food. Cracking them as they go in the frying pan is fun if sometimes messy. The sunny yolk is uplifting.
But seriously…eggs have significance for me. That they are laid is a miracle of life. When fertile, another miracle proceeds…one requiring nurture, and when the time is full, the shell is cracked open by new life insisting on being in the world.
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There is a simple lesson for me in that. Seeding precedes growth. Growth needs nurturing. Life must break out when the time is right. Reminds me of me. I didn’t have a role in my genesis. I am eternally grateful for my nurturing, by so many for so long. Now it’s time to break out. So, break out, Neal, break out! It’s time to know the world; time to be known by the world.