05/16/23

I was born in a small space in between a bright metal sign and a brick wall.

That’s just where I hatched, I had no say in the matter.

My mother would come feed me for the first few days, then me and my siblings started to fight over food, and sometimes I didn’t get any. Sometimes I got all of it.

As I got older I started to move around. Flap my wings. Push up on my legs.

Then one day I moved too far. I lost my balance and fell a long distance from the sign and wall to the ground. I was ok. I was light and didn’t get hurt, but now my mother won’t feed me.

It was a combination of things. A flaw in the nest, my siblings pushing me, and my mothers hasty construction. On the ground, I can still eat food, so why hasn’t my mother come to feed me?

In the nest, I would somtimes take naps inbetween feedings, and as I get hungrier and hungrier, I think that’s what I’ll do. I’ll sleep until she come back.

I sleep and sleep. Waking for a second here and there.

I sleep until I start to dream.

I dream of huddling with my siblings, and then hopping to a nearby, bush, then I dream of learning to fly.

I love to fly. In my dreams I fly and fly and make the long trips my mother makes each year to locations far away. I dream of building my own nest and having my own babies and feeding them and protecting them.

I dream of flying until my mother no longer needs to come back for me. I no longer need food and I am free.

Flying on a warm spring breeze.