Bluebird

Bluebird watched as his namesake dipped and fluttered in the sky, circling above him in no fascinating loops to his young eyes. The other hatchlings had made a sport of chasing down birds already, their half-grown wings struggling to follow the tight turns and intricate flight patterns. When he tried to join them, he had been rebuffed.

“Sorry Bluebird, but your mother would kill me if she knew I let you.”

“It’s not that fun anyways. Did you see when I flew into that tree branch? My head’s still ringing.”

Bluebird felt the sting in those kind words. He knew what they really meant. He knew he could barely hover off the ground, and even when he managed to take off, could hardly pass a minute without flying into something hard. And he was as awkward on the ground aas off it. His parents tried to soothe his fears that he would never learn to fly properly, but he could smell the fear, and the worry behind their facade of gentle concern. The other hatchlings, while not quite avoiding him, no longer invited him to their games.

A single, brilliant, blue feather fluttered towards him. Bluebird snapped out of his thoughts, realizing the bluebird had flown off, and in its place, gifted him a feather. He sneezed, as it ticked his nose, sending it back into the air with a huff. Despite his sadness mere seconds ago, he couldn’t help but giggle. He might not be graceful, but he was gifted in other ways. And the sun was shining, the breeze was soft, and the scent of flowers on the air. The world was wonderful, whether on or off the ground.

He picked up the feather, tucking it in his little satchel, and wandered home to share that bright little piece of the world.