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Little bird


A bird hit our window today. It’s happened before. Thankfully, not often.

Our windows are so big and beautiful. So easily missed in reflection.

My daughter stood at the window, crying out, as she watched it lying on the ground. I went to her, to see, but quickly walked away. I didn’t want to watch it suffer. I didn’t want to watch it die.

I told her to stop looking. I moved my son away.

I didn’t want to see it suffer.

Last night I finished the most beautiful book, In Love With the World. It’s about life, and death.

About fear, and moving past it.

My daughter was still at the window, my son hidden in his room.

I walked to the back of the house and got a small towel. Scooping it up as gently as I could, I sat down and placed it on my lap. She seemed so scared. Her small body shaking. I didn’t know what would happen, but I knew I didn’t want this creature to die alone. I would be with her, even if I was afraid.

I took the towel away and placed her against my flesh. She lay in my hand and closed her eyes. I wanted her breathing in and out. My children now at the window watching me.

After about 20 minutes, she started to move a little. One wing opened, followed by both eyes. I could see her coming back.

She stayed with me as I got up and walked around with her on my hand. I could tell she felt safe.

Finally, I put my hand up and both of her wings opened as my children and I watched her return to the sky.


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