birds-flying-at-sunrise-joe-granita

On a lazy evening, sitting on a couch, Norman was just staring blankly outside the window. The Sun was setting down and the soft, crimson red rays was coming inside through the open window. The flocks of birds were flying home. Norman’s mind was wandering too – but in the past. The old book of memories was open in front of him and the grey, dusty pages were being turned over one by one, automatically, in the backdrop of a half darkened room.

He never saw his real parents. His foster parents were everything to him. But his luck never favored him. He lost his parents in a freak accident when he was in his early twenties. He became an orphan again. He had good grades in college, but struggled to get a good job. His only hope was his first love whom he met in his college and married later. But his stars laughed at him again. His marriage life was not a happy one and they were on the verge of separation. He was living in his forties, but it seemed to him that he had been living for ages. He didn’t get any idea why he was living and what he should do. He just forgot to be happy. He lost himself in the grim darkness.

So there sat Norman, with lights turned out and only the dying light of dusk was present. Suddenly he heard a low, painful tweeting of a bird. It seemed to be coming right from his window pane area. He got up and discovered a small bird – probably attacked by a predator bird, but somehow it escaped and fell down beside his window. It was in shear pain. Norman picked up the bird, lit the lights of his room and tried to clean its wounds with a cotton ball softened with water. Then he warmed little bit of milk and fed the injured bird with the help of a cotton nipple dipped in the milk. While nursing and caring that little creature, his heart was filled with a strange sort of happiness and peace. He felt a selfless bond growing between him and the small bird. Was the common injury the fact that felt uniting them? He didn’t know. He kept the bird in a small, soft box and went to sleep.

Next morning, Norman woke up earlier than normal. It was the time of sunrise. The room was filled with the yellow rays of the shining Sun, indicating the beginning of a new, fresh day. Norman never enjoyed the sunrise so much as he did today. The birds were chirping merrily outside. He remembered about the bird he found yesterday and rushed to check it. To his surprise, he found it was gone!! He mistakenly kept the box beside the window and the bird, being healed decently by overnight, just flew away seeing the morning Sun. He was sad inside, losing his companion for a night. But the bird, the small creature, showed him the purpose of his life. He was happy from within. He knew that his grey, dusty, gloomy memories won’t drag him in the darkness anymore. He found the road to inner peace and tranquility – by serving selflessly.

Suddenly he heard a bird chirping by the window. When he looked out, he was overjoyed to see that little bird again!! It came to him to thank him!! The bird chirped merrily, sat on Norman’s shoulder and pecked on his cheek and then flew away. Norman watched the bird flying swiftly to far – very far away. Norman’s heart was filled with joy. He jumped in a new enthusiasm and began planning for his new journey in life.

Gray

22 thoughts on “Lost and Found

  1. Thanks a lot Mark.. You have given me a great compliment which I don’t deserve.. Hemingway way is a legend and I am a small fellow.
    But glad to know that you liked it πŸ˜€πŸ˜€

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  2. Wow ..when what I wrote for the word prompt “gray” was merely an unexpected and shocking ending.. you reversed the feeling into a joyous one!

    ” with lights turned out and only the dying light of dusk was present.” This phrase was bomb!

    Reading this piece just eradicated the pain I was feeling deep within! Thanks you for writing this spell of happiness!

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  3. πŸ˜€ Glad to know that my writings could refresh you from within..
    I am a dreamer. I know the dark reality. But I want to focus on the light. Hope is the thing that keeps us alive πŸ˜€

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