Healing Machine for Kimberly: For the shame of feeling like you aren't living up to your potential.
You're back at Two Lights in Maine with the sea crashing all around you, eating at a red picnic table, when a seagull snatches your last onion ring. You go after the gull, climbing the cliff of craggy rocks above the surf. A part of you knows it's just an onion ring. The other part of you thinks it's a test: will you just sit back and allow something that's rightfully yours be taken from you? The seagull leads you to a meager, shit-covered nest of twigs on the cliff's edge where three speckled fledglings scream for food. In a moment, they'll be tearing into that last onion ring, your onion ring.
To your surprise, the mother does not drop it into the nest. Instead, she stands at the cliff's edge, holding it out in front of her. The fledglings quiet. The boldest one steps to the edge and dives through the ring, its wings catching the air on the other side. The others follow, diving and soaring until the nest is empty. But the mother remains, ring outstretched, waiting. Somehow, you know it's your turn. You approach the cliff's edge. The onion ring grows to the size of a hula hoop, inside it only sky. You feel the wingfeathers hidden in your arms all these years sprout through your skin. The time has come. You step through the ring and soar.