The Greenhouse

Little bird, the last time we met you were trapped. Your wings fluttered furiously, yet they could not carry you past the panes of glass. Frightened and frustrated you were as repeatedly you hit the windows. The vents were open but oh, to your dismay, they were screened. All was an illusion of freedom and the only way out was through the open door you could not find.

You and I, we crossed paths in the most unlikely of places. Yet, how fitting it was that we should meet at all. For there you were, searching for freedom inside a glass prison. It was at your most desperate that I found you, staring sadly out the window.

You fought me, afraid of what my grasping hands could mean for your frail, winged body. Yet, you were tired. Your wings were worn from your struggle and so you submitted. You let me take you firmly between my palms, but still continued to fight. I could not blame you and I understood your fear as I carried you out of the greenhouse.

When at last I opened my palms, offering you the freedom you had worked so desperately to find, you paused and look back at me. Our gazes met for a fleeting second before you realized that the skies were yours. Suddenly you were gone from my hands and with a smile I watched you find safety in a tree.

We met again today, little bird, only this time you were not inside the greenhouse. Peacefully you sat, just outside the glass panes. It was as though you had waited for me! All day, I could have been anywhere, and yet you waited until the time was right, to land right there, where you knew I would see when when I came to water the plants.

Slowly I stooped, careful not to frighten you, and I offered my open palm. In you hopped, so small and fragile, but no longer were you timid. Bravely you sat, spending many long moments with me, until the time was right for you to leave. Again our eyes met in understanding and away you flew in a graceful swoop, no longer trapped by a glass illusion.

On my way home, little bird, I saw a sign by the train station. It read, “There is no app for this. Free You.” I smiled and thought it a sign indeed, for I realized that we are one in the same.

~K. White Wolf

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