As a child, I found it very difficult to concentrate in class. Everything distracted me from my teacher but what held my attention most was a large red bird with blue wings. This bird had a nest in the big tree outside the window. Often I would spend my classtime daydreaming about the adventures this bird must have experienced: the lands he must have seen as he took off across the world with no one telling him where he could or could not go. Never once did it cross my mind that the bird was aware of me until that fateful day in math class.
My teacher called on me to answer a question. As usual, I was not paying attention so I did not even know the equation let alone the answer. Whilst the teacher and all my classmates waited for me to respond, I looked out the window and found the bird staring at me. He then began chirpng which I had never heard him do before that moment. There were just a few short series of notes a pause and he would repeat the notes again. One of my classmates suggested we closed the window because “the bird was annoying.” The teacher agreed and as she walked over to the window it hit me that the bird might just be giving me the answer to the question. When the teacher returned to the front of the class, she called on me again to answer.
“The answer is 5?
“Are you asking us or telling us?”
“I am telling you?”
The answer was 5, and I looked over to the window only to see the bird tending to his nest.
Years later I wandered through the stalls of a street fair in a count far from home. I was finally having adventures of my own and traveling to the lands I once dreamed of visiting. Merchants sold their linens and tools. Designer knock-off bags were prominently displayed along with every type of clothing imaginable. The smell of different foods filled the stalls and my senses were verloaded. My friends chatted about the plans for the evening and I listened but I was distracted by a very familiar five note tune. The whistling came from down a separate aisle and so I told my friends I would be back.
As I walked down the aisle, I could hear the tune grow louder and stronger until I arrived at the smelly stall of one merchant. All types of animals were crammed into cages. There were rabbits, rats, puppies, kittens and birds. Tons and tons of birds but prominently displayed was a very familiar creature: red with blue wings.
“Excuse me, sir” I fumbled with the language that I had only begun to learn a few weeks earlier.
I asked the price of the bird and he told me a number that was more than all the savings I had for the duration of my travels. However, this is a market and it was customary to haggle for items. We went back and forth for some time until another customer pushed me out of the way. He told the merchant he would purchase the bird for an exorbitant amount. The merchant agreed and tried to remove the bird from the cage. Each time he approached the bed t would begin to squawk and fight him until it flew out of the cage and was trapped amongst the twists and turns of his stall. While the merchant and other customers tried to find the bird, I saw my chance, I stood at the edge of the stall, put my bag down on the ground and watched. It was not long before the large bird jumped inside. No one noticed as I righted myself, picked up the bag and walked away. I immediately walked over to an isolated corner of the market, opened my bag and sent the bird on his way. He flew up into the sky chirped that five note tune and was gone. Although, I considered taking him home, knew there was no way I could get away with bringing him on the plane and it was a good thing I set him free. As my friends and I were leaving the market we were stopped by market officials who called for the police. The merchant from the pet stand was screaming that I had stolen a bird. My friends and I were searched and when nothing was found in or possession we were released.
Today was my grandfather’s funeral. I have been at my aunt’s house listening as everyone recounted their favorite tales of my grandfather. It has been difficult as I always felt like my grandfather was the only person who truly understood me. My grandmother pulled me aside and asked me to help her to her room. There was something that she needed me to see. In her room, she pulls out a small box and hands it to me telling me not to lose it and not to open it until I get back home. At home, I forgot about the box until I went searching for my glasses. When I pulled out the box, I noticed a feather like pattern engraved into the box. I opened the box to find a letter written in my grandfather’s script. When I unfolded the letter two feathers fell to the ground: one red and one blue…
PhoebeJaneWrites 
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