Grandma’s Birds

That evening, a green-eyed brown bird spies on a Grandma, in a garden. With little beady eyes, a bird flies by and says I love you. She wants Grandma to fly, too, but Grandma just looks at the bird and smiles. Grandma loves the birds in her garden and wishes she could fly like one. She loves them because they seem to be poor little creatures, defenseless and flying is their way to freedom.

Every day she spreads breadcrumbs on the grass. She says to God, “I look after yours and you look after mine.”

The birds gobble up the breadcrumbs. They need energy so eat bread to fly from place to place.

When Grandma goes to bed she thinks about happy, singing birds. She thinks about what they might be saying in their songs. The songs could be messages from angels.

Grandma thinks about those lovely sounding angelic messages and wonders what they could mean. She often thought of love when she dreamt of the glimmer in the birds’ eyes.

The next day, a cloudy day, Grandma gets grumpy when the cat comes running over. The cat stares at the birds. Then tiptoes towards them like a hunter. The birds cannot see the white cat coming and the cat is not wanting to play. Grandma thinks it would be nice if cats could be friend instead of foe.

Grandma chased the big white cat out of the garden. The cat ran away, scared. He was so scared he jumped quicker than lightning over the concrete wall.

The cat sulked all day because he could not catch a bird at Grandma’s house. If the big cat was nice Grandma might let him play.

Grandma longs for a day when cats and birds could be friends.

Meantime, she puts breadcrumbs on the grass and hopes the cat does not come back. After all, she scared it away, didn’t she?

That evening, after school, Grandma’s grandson and granddaughter came over for a visit. She thinks visits are exciting and enjoys company very much.

Sometimes, the young ones do not get along, but Grandma understands. She knows they are busy and do not always have the time to be nice. They get stressed. But when they chat with Grandma and have cups of tea, everything is good in the world. Grandma smiles. “You look after mine, and I look after yours.”

That night, Grandma was alone, and she felt sad because she could not fly. Even so, the birds, in the garden, think Grandma is just like one of them, an adopted friend. Grandma would like to fly with the birds, but she does not have wings. She does not have to. When she is happy, in her heart, she flies with the best of the birds.

American beauty

When I was so much younger than I am today, and for about the rest of my life since, I believed that America should be emulated. Americans somehow lived on a different plane to the rest of us. They have it all together in other words. It’s the ideal life there. The perfect, ideal people, who are on top of things. I seen this. America brings us perfect movies, perfect presidents, immaculate music, Thanksgiving with happy families, Christmas with a warm glow, July 4 the best thing since last July 4. But, when I started to engage with American lives through the comments sections, I saw how the postie does not deliver the parcels to the correct address over and over again and there are people who cannot even get out of bed. But, to be sure and sober about this, and not to make it a comedy of sorts, I found that Americans are real people. Americans are people who struggle. And some, not all, are incredibly kind when the postie does not deliver. Someone said, welcome to the real world.

Real life

As I look around my neighbourhood, it is plain. There is a service station across the road, a real estate agent next door, and flats on the other side. They have a pile of boxes needing recycling. I do not know what is going on for the people inside these walls: the people’s stories, their lives. I can smell the smoke of someone who lit up a cigarette, but I do not know if there is some burning issue in that life.

When I turn on the television news, I get a glimpse of what is happening inside the lives of others. It is not a real look, though, but I get an idea. There is injustice and violence and the messages coming through the images can bring up someone’s own issue, such as mistreatment of the innocent and injustice. A bit like the images I saw some day. But there is always the bird chirping, ‘singing’, in the early morning, alive and with life to offer. One hears its call.


What if your body language gave way to you being rejected? It just signaled to the other person a warning sign. The perils of body language, then. One must fight back the invisible throttle to one’s dignity and reposition one’s self in a self-accepting manner. One does this one’s self, it’s just a natural reaction to feeling like duh. Really deal with it later.