When the Sun felt like dragging its tail through the sky, the man frequently visited the mountains beyond the place of many people, buildings, cars, lights and noise he called home. Every so often in the mountains he would sight another visitor from afar. This visitor was a little yellow, red, and black bird. The man always saw the bird at first out of the corner of his eye. This shockingly brightly-colored living firework darting amongst the trees almost never rested for a moment among the cooler calmer greens and browns of the forest. Every time the man wished for the little bird to come close. He wanted to know this joyful pilot of the forest, and he wanted the bird to know him also.
A time came one year where the man’s home was destroyed by fire during the season when the Sun wants nothing more than to quickly go somewhere else. He spent many nights thinking about those times he saw the bird because it was so different from the charred ashes of his home. Eventually he forgot about the bird because his mind was so crowded by the destruction of his home.
As the months went by, eventually, the man noticed that the Sun was again becoming lazier in the sky. Though his mind was still so crowded by the destruction of his home and anchored to the scarred and burned land where the home used to be, he decided to visit the mountains again. He was glad to see the cool greens and browns of the forest, to hear water running in brooks, to feel the cool breeze that wraps the mountains like a blanket and listen to its music. Yet he was still very sad also because he wasn’t just a visitor to the mountains but to everywhere now.
Unexpectedly the little bird came darting through the trees and rested on a branch very near. The man was so surprised to see the bird he had forgotten. The bird looked at him very closely, taking in every detail of his face. The man’s face had changed from sorrow to joy; and where shadow had previously been around him, it had now vanished. Finally, the man had his wish to know this other visitor.
Why do you bring me such joy when I see you? the man asked.
“Because I bring you such longing when I leave” the little bird answered.
Must it be that way?
“I’m afraid so” came the reply.
And with that the bird flew away and I wish
I knew when I will see him again. And I cried.
Trevor Ackerman lives in Louisville, Colorado. When he isn’t busy writing software you can find him outside, unless of course he’s taking a nap or watching televsion.
