Cries of laughter they sound like, welcome me to the world.
They watch as I struggle to stand up and find my balance. Laughing their songs from the heart. I struggle and struggle and struggle. My mother comes and soothes me, and sends me off to sleep.
I wake up, all is silent, other than croaking frogs and musical crickets. No welcome, no laughing. Just silence. I wait for my mother to wail out the call of morning. I squirm though, too hot, too much anticipation. Wake up mother, wake up! My tiny conscience screams for me to wake her up. I squirm some more. Too hot, too much anticipation. I hear it, I hear the musical laughter, my mother beginning the chorus.
All creatures go quiet to hear the music of laughter. It's beautiful, nothing can beat it, though all goes in seconds, birds start chirping, snakes slithering, bees buzzing.
Never end I want it to be so, but as beautiful as it may be, it doesn't last like that. My mother, nudges me to get up. Get up, get up, this is what you wanted before. My little legs pick up the courage to hold my weightless body. Mother orders me to stay quiet, stay alert, stay alive.
I wait and wait, waiting was all I did that day, same as well the next day, the day after that, until one day, she nudged me one morning, nudged me differently though, more harsh, yet so soft.
I had begun growing feathers, feathers of black, white, brown and more. So exciting. Mother told me I was ready. Ready for what? To fly she'd said. I'd seen birds 'fly' it made them look so free, the whole world to adventure, to explore. She gave me a long talk about what I had to do then she said, now I was fully ready.
She edged me closer and closer to the drop, as quickly as my tiny, still growing feet could go.
I was shoved, shoved over the drop and falling quickly to the earthy surface. Time froze. What did mother say? I spread my wings, I spread my wings and flew.
Gliding happily, gliding free. Free as I knew I could be. It was. Free from worry, free from danger, from cages, from fear and free from time.
Seconds don't tick when you fly, nor hours. Nothing passes. You only know until you stop dreaming, though it's hard to stop.
