one last adventure

The northern hemisphere has the history of the Norse and islands of volcanic rock. These people and their feathered friends have thrived together for thousands of years, their ways mingled in blood and bones, water, and Earth. The sweet little bird would return to her beginnings if she could, but it is too late. There is not enough time, would take too much physical effort, and there remain too few connections after all the years that have passed.
She is very comfortable in her present nest yet knows that she cannot make the same daily flights through jigs and jogs for the rest of her life. She has not migrated for 23 years and feels the ancient call to find warmer weather and different food sources even though she is leaving her family.
Now this feels justified as the details of such a move puts her offspring in good favor, something she has taken great care to secure. And there is no doubt in her mind that moving South to Vieques will provide the rebirth she needs while reasons to move away feel woven in just as deeply.
There are sad, irreparable dynamics that have left a sore spot in her heart. Leaving an atmosphere of polarized loyalties for a unified feeling of connection sounds so heartwarming. She already knows that life will be harder on the new island of rock, but simpler, quieter, and full of new friends and sunshine in her last years to enjoy.
Little birds of her sort never actually retire, they just move. It is that rajasic, fired by momentum inspiration that propels change with no regrets. She is accustomed to generating ideas and movement, just not so recently of this size and measure, so she takes her time.
Every item in her nest must be evaluated for its meaning and purpose. In the end, she decides to leave everything behind, save her two travel outfits and a suitcase of books. This makes the move even more of a quest for it is truly a new beginning.
She flew once to this island and has already made feathered friends. All kinds of birds, some who make art, float atop the warm ocean waters, and others who watch the sunset go down every evening before early bed. From afar she already feels welcomed, occasionally shadowing the sadness she feels for the end of her long nesting cycle. She remembers all the birds before her, migrating, adapting, and courageously risk taking to meet the calling for one last adventure.