a little birdy .
the autumn leaves start falling. the little bird looks out from the top of the tree and remembers that day, a year ago, when she fell out of the tree and lost a chunk of her wing. tumble, tumble, scrape, crash, snap. and it was gone.
it hurt so much initially that she would never stop thinking about it, even for a second. she tried to occupy herself, she tried to cure the pain, but it had no effect. all she could do was sit and stare and feel, all day long. she wondered if it would ever grow back, and if she could ever fly again.
then autumn became winter, and she ate and slept all day and her wing became numb. she would wake up and forget it was there sometimes, but the moment she moved she’d feel the pain all over again.
yet all winter, she rested and smiled and started healing.
she got used to the hole in her wing by summer. she’d flutter around, slowly but surely, enjoying the world around her and forgetting about the hole in her wing, most of the time. it had become a part of her, something that she embodied and accepted, and if it were to never go away she decided that she would be able to live. there was no more pain. just excitement and adventure and challenge and life. and the past.
now it’s autumn again. the little bird sticks out her wing and remembers the day that she fell out of the tree. she remembers the pain, but she doesn’t feel it. she remembers her longing to have it back, but she doesn’t dwell on it. she just smiles, and tells herself that everything gets better in time.