It was a rather abrupt and rude shock for me too. After two days of walking into my room upon returning from work and feeling grateful that the formerly dull surroundings seemed to come alive at a string of – unhappy – little chirps, I took a nap on the afternoon of the second day (to escape the flies sent to torment me in ways demons had failed to) and heaved my disgruntled self off the bed after about an hour of restless discomfort-
-To find birdie bowing to its water dish.
I really was shocked. And unhappy. I had just been getting myself into the frame of mind to become a pet owner and couldn’t figure out the usefulness of this misfortune. Apparently, the heat was more unbearable for my little roommate; yet despite the fact that I don’t have the controls to the atmosphere, I still felt responsible.
I shook the base of old newspapers as it as it lay there under the canopy of the makeshift dome I’d put together for it. It fell backward and I saw the slits where beady black eyes used to be – birdie’s death had been confirmed. Picking it up, I sighed.
“I guess it’s even better that I didn’t name you.” I carried it to a secluded corner of the courtyard and there laid it to rest.
The bond would have grown if only the weather conditions would have given us a chance. My plan had been a coin toss between letting it go once I was done posting the final part of this series, or getting a proper cage and feed and everything – so we could talk on nights when the suppliers of electricity decided we needed to use the darkness for more important things than electricity could ever enhance.
I guess it wasn’t meant to be.
I walked aimlessly to different parts of my room, clearing out the things I’d begun setting aside for birdie and just feeling irrationally lonely all of a sudden. Even the flies got a hint and fewer dared tour my head region, opting to head outside. I kept thinking about how I was going to have to tell people of this occurrence, and how many will just decide I’m a cruel human without a care for bird life. But I am not that woman, I promise.
It’s just that sometimes we make the wrong choices…
I had made mine and, unfortunately, so had the departed…
The plan had been for this story to end with me being the considerate heroine who let birdie go in spite of its folly. But things didn’t quite work out as I’d planned.
Does that line not sound familiar? Here, let me type it again:
…Things didn’t quite work out as I’d planned.
If I were to count the number of times I’ve had to say that in this young and bubbling life of mine, it might span quite a number of memories. Many at times we plan, and calculate and figure we’ll do this or that, assuming time dabbles in favoritism or death were into working out and would skip us on account of pretty faces or good intentions. But see, regardless of how we came up with this impression that we call the shots on time and the future –
We really don’t dear people. We never did.
Planning is good and projections are alright, but if one is yet to hook up with the person who made time and yet exists outside it, the one who puts the ‘IM’ in mortality, then they’re really just carelessly using their breaths and heartbeats as di and tossing them with each new day they make a gamble of their eternity. Straight up; if Jesus isn’t at the center – if we don’t wholly surrender, then we’ll end up crumbling like a pack of cards into our graves – our plans along with us – and whether good or bad, our intentions will be as irrelevant chaff when we stand before the one we owe our life’s report to.
It’s that simple.
Now, let’s leave my plans for birdie that didn’t work out – I could winnow so many lessons from that, it might end up exhausting you. Writing about birdie was inspired when I juxtaposed its choices and actions – and the behaviors of of many in this age and century. I’ll break it down:
- Birdie strayed: It wasn’t homeless; its other family members were tucked away in the tree in the courtyard. Comfortable with where they knew to be safe in such a way that the restless night couldn’t blow them away – literally. Birdie, for whatever reason, left home on a journey to the place with the shiny light that was not so far away from home.
- Birdie was over-excited: it had swooped into the bright space with little/no resistance, and decided my room was even more pleasant for that. There was nothing limiting its adventures.
- Birdie was fooled: by its own self. Convinced it could play around, have a great time with the shiny things, before returning home as soon as it was ready. Another plan that bit the dust.
- Birdie was foolish: the one time it got as close to freedom as it was ever going to know after coming in, it shirked off the opportunity and gazed at its desire some more, allowing that overshadow every other thought regarding safety and reason.
See birdie wasn’t really very wise. And sometimes, neither are we….
To be continued….