Corbin

Trying To Fly

Starting that day, I saw more and more glimpses of the old Winter than I had ever dared to hope for after Mother's passing. Somehow, having this little bluebird to take care of had brought a sense of new beginnings to both of us. Morning, noon and night we tended to the little fellow – Winter watching him constantly to make sure he ate properly and singing to him as she went about her day. She took him with her wherever she went. Even when she went to the bathroom she would perch his shoebox on the window sill and talk to him as she went about her business.

Slowly, as the days passed, Corbin gained strength. With Winter's attention and my guidance, he began to take an interest in the world around him again. No longer the meek, scared little bird crying out for help, I watched as he began to hop around in his box until one day he just hopped right out of it! Winter, of course, erupted in fits of giggles and even more so when he then proceeded to hop onto her hand and up her arm, settling contentedly on her shoulder.

From then on it seemed he spent his every moment hopping around trying to keep up with Winter and if he wasn't hopping then he was perched on or beside her. Every morning as she ate breakfast, he would perch on the end of her spoon – causing her to giggle when his feathers tickled her cheek. Every day as she worked on her reading and maths, he would sit on her shoulder and chirp happily when she read aloud or got an answer right. And finally when the day drew to a close, Winter would sit on my lap in her nightgown and I would brush her hair. And each night he would perch on the lamp, a meter or so from the rocking chair, as I then sang Winter to sleep.

Eventually, though, the routine we had fallen into had to change once again. As was inevitable, money was dwindling due to no income and I realised that if I wanted to keep food on the table I would have to find a way to start providing that earned more than the few pennies my paper route had. Since Winter wasn't of school age there was nowhere for her to go in the day but I could not afford to send her somewhere to be cared for or stay home to care for her myself either. And so, as Easter approached, I decided I needed to get a new job. It would mean making some adjustments but I knew that if I made sacrifices, we would stay afloat a lot better.

First, though, I had to find someone willing to take me on. This, of course, meant a job hunt. I tried my best to make it into a game for Winter since she had no choice but to come with me and for the most point it seemed she really did enjoy it. However everywhere I went I got the same sorrowful look when they heard my story but the answer remained bleak. Some tried to word it gently for Winter's sake, others just came right out with it. But the answer never changed. No one could afford to hire a young man with no experience at the kind of wages it would take to cover cost of living for two and no one was keen on having a small child about their business constantly, even if she was the delight she proved herself to be.

At the end of the third day, even Corbin was discouraged. He sat on Winter's shoulder, as he had for every 6am to 6pm trek we took searching for work, but this time not a single chirp escaped his beak.

"Yosha?" Winter asked, tired eyes looking up at me as she held my hand, feet dragging on the pavement beside me.

"Yes little Cub?" I tried to smile, for her sake.

"What happens to us if you don't find a job?"

I sighed softly, "Well, um, I guess we just have to keep looking until I do find one."

Winter frowned and we fell silent for several minutes as we walked. Off in the distance, the sun was setting and soon the night air would fill the streets leaving the area cold which was no place for a young child to be.

"Come on, precious one, let's go home," I squeezed Winter's hand softly and we turned around, starting to walk in the direction of home.

Just as the street lights flickered on, however, Corbin appeared to become agitated upon Winter's shoulder.