Flight Back Home
I observed her from afar, keeping my presence unknown. She was on her own for the first time, completely free. Usually, she would fly inside the house, but with the doors and windows shut. She would sleep in her space between bars and wires, but it wasn’t a cage. I wouldn’t let it be.
She cocked her head to the side. With small steps, she walked towards the window. I held my breath. She raised her wings and cut through the air. My breath escaped in a sigh. In a flurry of wings, she was gone.
With my gaze fixed on the window, I was struck by a flash of memories. Just last week, we had our first proper conversation. Just yesterday, we were watching the TV together. Just this morning, she was fetching objects I tossed aside: paper, plastic, or wood.
In a flash of green, there she was, perched on the windowsill. In her beak, she held a piece of bamboo. I smiled. With an object I had tossed aside, she decided to come back.