Apologue:

~ Little Bird ~

Let me preface this by saying from the time my daughter was a year

old, all those close to her called her by her nickname "Bird". It

suited her to a Tee, because she was forever chirping and flitting

about, always so trusting and full of joy. This is what happened 6

months after she passed away...

It was just a few days after I'd moved in to a new house when the

most curious thing occurred. Upon waking I walked in to the living

room and much to my surprise a sparrow sat perched on the television

set. The bird wasn't ruffled by my presence at all, in fact it

seemed to be expecting me. I greeted it, "Hello little bird." It

chirped back. It looked so confident. How did you ever get inside?

Down the chimney I thought and checked the flue, but the flue was

closed. Then little bird jumped off the TV and hopped around the room

in a proprietary manner. I followed as it hopped down the hallway.

Fretful the bird might panic and start thrashing about I nervously

skirted ahead, not knowing if it was looking for an exit point and

opened a window for it. After a while the bird elected to

take flight out the window, I watched as it flew eastward.

Nothing so unusual about this one might think... Until the exact same

thing happened the following morning. Little bird stayed longer and

explored the kitchen this time. " I'm here Mom, I love you and I am

with you."

The third visitation happened a couple of years later when my life was

at an all time low. The momentum of the 37 yrs. my daughter had been

alive had begun to wane and the time spent in a state of shock

following her death had worn thin. Caught in a vortex of life numbing

anguish, I experienced a downward spiral of complete dissociation to

the world around me. Nothing made sense or mattered anymore. Death

mocked all things I'd held to be true and my already tenuous

belief systems had shattered. My doctor said I'd suffered a nervous

breakdown. I'm sure this is true.

An all consuming sorrow had erected insurmountable walls around

my heart. It was during this time of unparalleled despair I was

awakened before dawn one day by very loud scratching and squawking

sounds coming from the kitchen. Half asleep I stumbled down the

hallway to find out what all the commotion was about and switched on

the overhead kitchen light. Little bird had struggled hard to

get inside the house this time by squeezing in through the tight steel

blades of the kitchen wall fan. It sat motionless in perturbed

silence on the top rail of an open kitchen door.

"Oh Little Bird - I want to soar away with you, but I am earthbound

and can only follow you with my heart." I wept. After the sparrow

flew out the back door I'd opened, I inspected the wall fan to

see if perhaps there were signs of a nest being built, but there

weren't any. Only a few ashen feathers remained drifting across

the linoleum floor. Feeling at a loss I looked around the kitchen, I

can't say why my focus settled on the pieces of stale bread I'd left

out the night before to be made in to bread crumbs.  But in that moment

my heart quickened and I knew the old pieces of bread would be

put to a different use...it would be used to sustain the life around

me, it would be used to feed little birds.