A bird at the window


(Author’s note, January 14, 2023. This story was first published in Finding Hope Ness six years ago. I wanted to feature it again for a while, in these troubled times when it seems anything is terribly possible.)

The old woman looked deeply into her father’s eyes for any sign at all his spirit was still alive behind the now pale, blue eyes in the ancient head in front of her.

There was a time, she could still remember, when those eyes were as blue as the sky and full of a spirit that wanted to see everything, that was like a bird fluttering madly with curiosity against the living room window.

That very thing had happened one sunny, spring day when she and her father and mother were together. He had stood up suddenly in the middle of a sentence when the bird appeared and he actually cried out, “yes, my little friend, yes, I see you, yes I’m here. And I would fly away with you if I could.”

And then after the bird had just as suddenly flown away, up into the afternoon sky, he had dropped back into his chair, put his head in his hands and wept, saying over and over through his tears, “yes, yes, yes.” Continue reading