I Thought I Saw Outside a Bird

I THOUGHT I SAW OUTSIDE A BIRD

I thought I saw outside a bird, white with orange cheeks. I thought I saw her through my front window, majestically perched atop the lamppost in my yard. I must have seen her. Why else would I be writing?
She was quite a small bird who was too clean and pure and white to be wild but at the same time her pinpoint eyes held so much experience and knowledge that she had to be wild. Perhaps she was an angel, foreseer of all God’s creatures. I could picture her as being one of His precursor creations, fashioned for all others to be built in her image, who now roams to Earth to remind us of His initial, beatific, heavenly vision.
I had to know where she came from, so I opened the door and stumbled down the porch, my eyes fixed on this new, but strikingly familiar, specimen of beauty. It was very possible that this bird had been here my whole life, hidden in the background, waiting for the moment to reveal herself to me. Her shape was perfect, her wings rested perfectly solemn at her sides, her breast bulged bold and serene, and her eyes surveyed the floral scenery of my front yard. I didn’t remember the garden having so many flowers. It was beautiful and heavenly. The sky was glowing and everything around me shimmered. The world was vibrant. I swear I could see every little atom dancing. But how? Why? Was it the bird? The more I looked at her the more I reckoned she was the source of all beauty. Either directly or indirectly (for, at the very least, she inspired all the world’s beauty).
I had to know where she was going. I had to know where she would lead me. Closer and closer I approached; her feathers and her noble stance becoming more and more riveting with each step. Finally I reached the lightpost, her head slightly above mine (as it always should be). A strange sense of security bubbled inside me. She knew I was there, she knew why I was there (probably better than I did). She knew if she flew, I’d follow. She knew if she stayed, I’d stay. And I was perfectly fine with surrendering that power. I was convinced I stood before the form of an angel.
She flew, and as it always would happen, I followed. I followed her for three days and four nights never taking my eyes off my divine captain. For those three days and four nights I didn’t once try to figure out where I was or where I was going. I didn’t want to know. She couldn’t possibly lead me to harm or obstruction. I was faithful as I’d ever been in my life.
And so it did happen, as it always would happen, she stopped. Stopped high up in a tree which I, without hesitation, scrambled to he very top of. I sat on a thick, live, branch and looked down at my dangling feet. The pilgrimage had made me mangled and wild. I was tired but I was on a mission. There are times in life when people, for no specific reason, have to put all their faith into something, without question or thought. Strange as it may seem, I had to follow the bird, else I’d wonder about it for the rest of my life.
I realized this was the first time I’d taken my eyes off the bird for three days. Immediately, I snapped my head up and caught the bird looking at me, inspecting me. I felt honored, but at the same time small and banal for her eyes penetrated my own and spewed out the back of my skull, pouring everything I thought I knew down my back to trickle and collect among the roots. Then she spoke, which did not surprise me, I always knew she was capable of extraordinary things, but oh, what would she say? I will cherish these words forever!

“Stop following me.” The voice was cold and harsh. I began to shake. Everything which had been lifted up by this heavenly savior fell onto my head and crushed me. Desolation surged throughout my body, replacing the faith and security with utter blackness.
In my immediate desperation I answered, “Oh, don’t say that to me!” my voice blushed, “Come on, let’s keep going… I will follow you to Heaven!”
She stared at me, pragmatic as I’d ever been stared at, how an adult looks at a child when he’s being too silly for his age. “This is what will happen:” she said, “I will fly out of this tree and you will look through the leaves trying to find me. You will not succeed; you will not find me. Then you will jump out of this tree, look into the sky and try to guess which way I went. You will not succeed; you will guess wrong. Then you will try to convince yourself that I did not just disappear. You will not succeed; I will disappear. Then, years from now, when you’re all alone, you will come looking for me. You will not succeed. You will never see me again.”
And so it did happen, like it always would happen, she launched herself out of the tree and disappeared into the white, infinite sky. I peered through the leaves but saw nothing. I jumped down form the tree and looked up. I saw nothing. She disappeared. She was gone forever.


The house was decrepit. It oozed muck. All colors were bland. The lamppost, which once hosted a God, was old and rusty, overtaken by weeds. The grass was dead and the sky was no longer white and endless, but gray and derisory. And all in about six days.
My family was probably inside, worried, waiting for me. I opened the door and filled the space of there weary, anxious eyes. At the site of me they all made the same noise - a combination of a gasp and a sigh. I did not look at them. I couldn’t. It would be too much. It wouldn’t be enough. I wouldn’t bring Her back.
My father asked his well thought-out and well discussed question, “So… What will you do next?”
I looked up at them, into each of their eyes at once and smiled. My eyes and my smile were as wide as they’d ever seen. “Here’s what will happen: I will run up to my room, you will chase me and try to catch me. You will not succeed; I will get away. Then I will climb onto my window ledge and jump. You will try to stop me. You will not succeed; I will jump. Then you will look down from the window and try to find me. You will not succeed; you will not find me. Then you will try to convince yourselves that I did not just disappear. You will not succeed; I will disappear. Then, years from now, when you’re all alone, you will come looking for me. You will not succeed; you will never see me again.”
And so it did happen, as it always would happen, I jolted up the stairs, pounding unnecessarily hard on each step as I went. My family followed but they could never catch me. I was as good as gone. I reached my room and climb out the window. My family gathered at the door. Without looking back, I jumped. I felt the world disappear around me. I felt my backyard swirl and shrink into oblivion. I felt everyone I ever knew applaud me as I fell. I felt their eyes glaze over. I felt their faces contort. I felt the fruitful ambitions of man disappear with the infectious sensation of falling. I felt the wind pierce my body. I felt the wind disappear. I felt the absence of everything which allowed me the absolute gain of nothing. I felt pure and raw and knowing and suave. I felt my pupils grow, and overtake my body. I felt the iris of the void eclipse all darkness. I felt the white, infinite sky rise and expand. I felt the orange-cheeked bird swoop over my head. I didn’t have to look. I disappeared. I was gone forever.
Stop following me.