Bird

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hey were doing. With their over-the-top morning greetings. And their fake gestures to one another. She knew.</p><p id="c4b6">They were trying to put on a brave face. For her. But she knew them all too well. Better than they knew themselves. Because they allowed themselves to get lost.</p><p id="be56">This little girl hoped she could be the one to show them that. That they were lost. Not hateful. Or resentful. But lost in a life that started too early. They were too young to embark on this familial directive. But they were too in love with the idea, at the time, not to.</p><p id="831d">Her heart told her she could help them.</p><p id="242f">They thought she was drawing, but she wasn’t. She was reciting and recording. They called her Bird. Their little bird. And in turn, Lily had her own bird. Imaginary or real, it existed to her. It lived in her world. Bird and bird. Forever intertwined.</p><p id="ced5">She left the recorded message for her parents one morning before she went to school. It was her heart. Her little, five-year-old heart. The glue to a cracked model of a family. It was all they had. She was all they had. They had lost each other. But they still had their bird.</p><h1 id="8a28">Bird</h1><p id="2bbc"><b><i>Dictated by Lily</i><

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/b></p><p id="0a9b">Hi bird I love you bird Where do you go when you fly away? Do you have kids like me? Do you take care of them? Do you bring them food? I like how you flutter When you sit on a tree Or a branch I miss you bird Because you are my friend And you come to see me every day Thank you for loving me I love you too You are my friend forever You are my bird</p><p id="2d1e">This story was created from three excerpts from a screenplay I am writing called <i>When the Internet Disappeared</i>. The more I read it and reread it, the more I focus on Lily (Bird). This short story is a homage to her.</p><p id="47ad">© <a href="undefined">Jonathan Greene</a> 2020</p><p id="97eb">If you liked this, you might like this as well:</p><div id="00a0" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/isolation-315d20e908e4"> <div> <div> <h2>Isolation</h2> <div><h3>A Short Story</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*k92BAOUEP-AroS23)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A Short Story

Lily was the best thing each of them had ever done. She was a shining light in their perceived misery. The only thing holding this tattered mess together.

Her eyes lit up both of their lives. Separately. Because they didn’t know how to do it together. They couldn’t even appreciate their own daughter together. They couldn’t do anything together. And Lily sensed that. Instinctually.

So Lily constantly played peacemaker. At five years old. For her parents. So they could survive another night. So she could feel the bond of family. Even if she was the glue.

A five-year-old. Full of love. The glue.

Her little eyes opened to an empty bed. She liked it like this. Because she didn’t have to see one of their sad faces, pretending to be happy. For her.

She knew what they were doing. With their over-the-top morning greetings. And their fake gestures to one another. She knew.

They were trying to put on a brave face. For her. But she knew them all too well. Better than they knew themselves. Because they allowed themselves to get lost.

This little girl hoped she could be the one to show them that. That they were lost. Not hateful. Or resentful. But lost in a life that started too early. They were too young to embark on this familial directive. But they were too in love with the idea, at the time, not to.

Her heart told her she could help them.

They thought she was drawing, but she wasn’t. She was reciting and recording. They called her Bird. Their little bird. And in turn, Lily had her own bird. Imaginary or real, it existed to her. It lived in her world. Bird and bird. Forever intertwined.

She left the recorded message for her parents one morning before she went to school. It was her heart. Her little, five-year-old heart. The glue to a cracked model of a family. It was all they had. She was all they had. They had lost each other. But they still had their bird.

Bird

Dictated by Lily

Hi bird I love you bird Where do you go when you fly away? Do you have kids like me? Do you take care of them? Do you bring them food? I like how you flutter When you sit on a tree Or a branch I miss you bird Because you are my friend And you come to see me every day Thank you for loving me I love you too You are my friend forever You are my bird

This story was created from three excerpts from a screenplay I am writing called When the Internet Disappeared. The more I read it and reread it, the more I focus on Lily (Bird). This short story is a homage to her.

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