Mother and the Birds

Mother went missing again today. As usual, papa and I found her at Central Park, twirling with the birds.

She spun on her feet, face and arms toward the sky, as if in praise. A flock of birds swarmed around her. The dress and scarf flailing beside her, fanning out as a beacon, and attracting the birds, I assume. It was an awe-inspiring sight for any onlooker anyway.

Masses of people circled her, standing all amazed at the sight. I pushed my way through, papa close behind. He was sad, and did not speak, quietly watching mother.

I approached her, birds darting to advert me but still stay as near her as possible. She did not notice my presence, remaining blissfully content. I placed my hand on her shoulder; she stops and looks down, then the recognition sparked and she hugged me.

“Did you see them? Did you see them?” she cried.

“Yes mother, I did,” I didn’t think she meant the birds.

She looked up again, at the birds--no past the birds--to something unseen.