Two Birds

Birds are more free than any creature that I've ever come to know. They have the freedom, and the great opportunity, to just soar away any old time, and never take a look back.

  I wish I was that free. I wish I could leave behind this town and all its people. I wish I could fly away from those who have asked too much of me and those who have taken from me my dignity and confidence. I no longer wish to do good by others because they have left me in shattered pieces, in a shell of who I once was. This time I wanted to be selfish instead of the consistently giving person I am. I had wanted to run away, but alas, I am no bird and I am not free of responsibility.

  I sat and sulked on a creaky old bench in the local park that day. It was a crisp, clear, Saturday afternoon in the middle of autumn. It was exactly the type of day I loved most.

  The bench was directly overlooking a small playground that no one used anymore. It was less of an actual playground and more of a glorified swingset that was entirely covered in sloppy graffiti. It looked so fragile that I feared it might fall over with a small gust of wind, of which are so common in autumn. Looks, however, can be deceiving.

  I watched from this bench as a small wren perched right on top of the swingset.  It hopped back and forth along the wooden bar. It seem contented to pace this way forever. The wren was jovial and without care.

  Soon, another wren came and perched right next to the first. They seemed to twitter at each other and both came to the understanding that they would now share this perch. The first wren no longer hopped back and forth in content. He sat and peered at the second wren, seemingly sizing him up.

  The second wren caught sight of this and began to twitter at the first. In just a few short moments they fell silent. The first bird took off to find another place and I was saddened. I felt that the second wren was mean and terrible and had caused the first to flee.

  Just as I became upset with the bird, the first wren came back. He swooped in carrying a twig. It was just a plain, brown, dirty twig, nothing special, but the second wren took it as a cherished gift and a truce. I marveled at how these birds had put their differences behind themselves so easily. The birds shared the perch and all was balanced again.

  Birds are still the most free creatures I have ever come to know. My opinion remains unchanged. But I do know that they too have choices to make. They choose between their own selfishness and the happiness of others. Bird's are caring and giving creatures. They have learned, from their freedom to take to the air, that they always have the power to please themselves, but sometimes compromise and trust can make others just as delighted as they themselves are. Or perhaps I have confused birds' simple lives with the complexity of people.

  It was getting darker by the minute. Before I had stormed off , I had promised Wynnie that I would read to her and I had promised my mother that I would bake cookies for her to take to work.

   I would compromise. I would stand my ground and demand appreciation from those who claimed they loved me, but also keep my promises even if all I wanted to do was fly away just like birds do.