After my father’s death a kind of psychological autopilot took over. You can’t tame grief, but you can tame a hawk. At the time I saw it as a way of escaping myself. I wanted to be like a goshawk. I didn’t test myself against the rugged exterior landscape. I brought the wild—in the form of the hawk—inside the home, and inside myself. That is where the battle raged. At heart it was a battle about who I was and what the world was for.
We carry the lives we ’ve imagined as we carry the lives we have, and sometimes a reckoning comes of all the lives we have lost.
Έλεν Μακντόναλντ, H is for Hawk