I am a bird.
My birdhouse is empty, except for me.
When I get lonely, I decorate my birdhouse so that other birds will want to stay with me.
Most birds fly away the moment I spread my wings to welcome them. My wings aren't as pretty as the house I decorated.
But once in a while, a bird will look past the flaws in my wings, and choose to stay, because my birdhouse makes up for my imperfections.
It's quiet at first. It always is.
Eventually, a chirp, and then two.
Soon, we talk more. We talk every day.
Sometimes I get carried away and chirp too much. But the bird doesn't mind.
The bird stays by my side, and we become best friends. We stay in my birdhouse that I decorated just for them.
But one day, the bird sees a pretty tree. One prettier than mine.
"We should move to that tree", they say. "It's nicer."
I don't want to leave this tree. My house is here. I like my house. Don't you like it too?
I don't have the courage to say it aloud, so instead I say "Okay", and let them lead the way.
They fly away to the new tree.
I try to follow, but my wings don't work. I flap them harder and harder, but I can't keep up.
So I chirp as loudly as I can. I try to call them back. I don't want to be alone again.
They chirp back to me, but they don't move from the pretty tree.
Eventually, they stop chirping altogether, and my birdhouse is empty again.
It's okay. I'll redecorate it. This time I'll do better, so the next bird will stay.
So they'll stay, even when they find out my wings don't work.
