“The bird flew away and wasn’t dead.” That’s what my grandma told me yesterday on the phone. At first I was confused…then I remembered. In moses lake under a tree fort which hung out above the water was a birds nest. Two baby birds sat and chirped for days until one died. I was sure the death had to do with the probing sticks and rocks. My cousins and brother claimed no responsiblility. After that, however, the remaining baby was vehemently championed. Once when a pigeon flew over, my aunt stood at the end of the dock yelling “I know what you want! You want to eat that baby bird! Well your messing with the wrong people.” The pigeon flew off with its feathered tail between its legs.
The boys checked the progress every day. “It has more tail feathers!” they would shout. More tail feathers? Cause for celebration in my family.
Of course after hearing the bird was safe I was pleased. then I started making metaphors (so typically me) about how that sentence could totally apply to me since on Sunday I will be flying the coop. After overcoming some difficulties (sticks and stones!) and being well protected by my familyover the years, I am the bird that flew away and was vehemently championed . =)