Just a Little Bit More...

Ch1: That Memory I Still Enjoy...

The seafoam splashed wish a calming swoosh, while the breeze gently lifted at my hazel locks of hair. It swung the way it always did when it got slightly messy and oily; that's what being on the road for two full days does to you.

My yellow sundress occasionally bounced around and padded at my ankles reassuringly. Even my own clothes were encouraging me, Telling me: you can do this! I smiled. It was nice to finally have a chance to relax.

"Ahh!", I yelped out excitedly while I stretched.

My right hand was beginning to get tired of holding the tight leather of my sandal straps; the wire-like cords digging into the flesh of my skin, turning it all plumpy and bruised. But I tried not to care. With a startled breath, I took my freezing steps into the waters of the beach shore. It splashed across my feet, each bubble frothing and kissing my skin. Even nature reassured me.

I hopped about, skipping around the gentle fingers of sand that comforted me. The little shells and pebbles I stepped on also gave me pats of softness. It didn't feel sharp or spiny at all, like they were only showing their smooth sides to me on purpose. Kinda like encouraging me to go deeper.

I wanted to sit there, lay on the moist sand, get washed up by the lazy tide. But I didn't want to ruin my dress— the dress that was faithfully loyal to me all this time. The dress that constantly kept me warm.

Just a little bit more...

Just a little bit more and life would finally give me the answer I wanted. Answer to my purpose. To my destination.

And I stood there, staring at the horizon. I imagined what laid beyond the shores. Obviously, the Atlantic ocean, and all the fish life and coral and seaweed that was there. Maybe a sailboat or a fishing trip, perhaps even a cruise ship. Maybe a submarine or a school of fish.

I saw a seagull fly by, its white wings sparkling with significance and passion. It flew with purpose. It flew with life. It flew at least, not with its wing tied. Some birds never get to fly.

I headed back to the car and opened the backseat door. The cage bumbled with their rustling, their trimmed talons poking about like cartoony spiders checking out the corners and bars of the space. Myra and Avery coiled around like snakes, their necks twisting the way birds do in their weird body gestures.

"Lie-luh," Myra tried to call out to me, her wings of cobalt rising like a hand gesture.

"Ishittle mor," Avery continued, sliding his neck like a piston, his beak bowing towards me in a friendly way. He repeated the statement and his gesture, before observing me with his constantly twitching, green, ruffled head.

I smiled at them, gave them a wave, before picking out some sunflower seeds from a cupholder and gently tossing it at them. They gave me licks and kisses, while Myra's kiss was more of a french one as she pecked at me as well. Even my pets support me.

I held out the cage, giving it a strong embrace. My eyes closed, trying to imagine the cage as a real entity, able to accept my warm hug. But it wasn't. The cage was inanimate, but some things, whether alive or real, physical or philosophical, those things can be as equally strong. In both what they allow and restrict.

My eyes opened, and my babies still pecked at their little seeds, yet shot me with eyes of kindness and beauty. Their grey faces weren't stony like all those people I've seen throughout the years. Their feathered faces shone with interest and affection, despite what their colors may say. I loved them, and I felt that they loved me.

That's why it was so difficult for me to think of what to do next.

The cage. My babies. I can't let them fly out; they won't survive in the wild. But I didn't want them to be in a cage forever. I know how that feels.