Bobbin

I remember when she hatched. She was born with no wings, but I could see how she wanted to fly. It broke my heart to see her watching the other hatchlings learn to soar, while she was stuck on the ground. She caught me peering at her and smiled at me. She tried to hide her sadness behind kindness and friendship; sneaking gifts into my cavern when she thought I wasn’t looking. But I knew. She was beautiful, and she deserved better than this. I would give her something better than this.

I learned to stitch fabric together with needle and thread, so I could give her wings. It took months, and many bandaged fingers before I finally had something I thought was presentable. She didn’t know what to say when I brought them to her at first. I couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad about it.

“They won’t let you fly like you want to. I wish I could give you more.” I told her. I love you and would give you the world if I could, was what I meant.

“You’re wrong.” She told me, putting the fabric on her cavern floor and smoothing it out so she could see it fully. Her head tilted this way and that as she examined my work. “With these, I will fly higher and better than anyone else.”

I love you too, and you’ve already given me the world was what she meant when she looked back at me and smiled.


Art by 5up