Fly Away Home

(poems go here) “The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.” – J.M. Barrie Papa watched the birds at his backyard birdfeeder every day for years. As soon as the seeds ran low, Papa refilled the feeder so no bird was ever left hungry. He knew his feathered companions well, each and every one, naming the birds by their call. Year after year, the birds kept coming Papa kept watching. The birds migrated with the seasons And so did Papa from his green metal chair outside to the pastel round swivel chair inside. Papa began to identify more with the birds and less with himself. Papa ate and enjoyed food like it was his primary job. Alone Papa had the stomach to empty out an entire bird feeder. Nana was the one who had to replenish Papa’s plate. Food became Papa’s love and sanity. The more bird-seed he consumed, the more his mind grew wings. Eventually, Papa outgrew the pastel chair, so Nana replaced it with a leather recliner. This chair, however was no ordinary chair. You cannot squish an unordinary man into an ordinary chair. Life just doesn’t work like that. Papa’s new chair lifted him into the standing position with the press of a button. Every time he pressed the button, a piece of him flew upwards and joined the birds. As years passed, the scrambled words from Papa’s mouth reached Nana’s ears like an unsolved game of scrabble. All the pieces were there; Papa no longer had the hands to organize the letters into words. Instead, Papa grew wings to fly. After watching the birds for years, it seemed flying was natural for Papa. While in the nursing home, Papa lifted his spirit off the hospital bed and joined his feathery friends in flight. Papa did not fly over the cuckoos nest, but rather into it. Papa’s jumbled words became peaceful and tranquil tweets, floating down through the air. Papa’s wings killed the evil in his mind and he flew to freedom. Only then was Papa’s spirit no longer trapped in his own disheveled body. Papa’s tweets, full of sarcasm and spirit, influenced and continue to influence the visions of watchers around him. The bird feeder was now empty. It was my job to refill it. For years I was unable to comprehend my grandfather, to decipher his knowledge and understand his wit buried deep in words. Only after Papa died, I looked at the birdfeeder in my backyard and understood what true faith was about. I sat still in my chair as I closed One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The last sentence Lingered in my head. I stared outside the window as if time did not exist. A red cardinal perched atop the white deck railing. I gazed at the bird for minutes and we unexpectedly made eye contact. The cardinal nodded at me and took off into the air. His red fluffy body swooped in glorious arcs through the cloudless blue sky. People need to be present and appreciate those persons and objects surrounding them in order to see through the cage of everyday life. Only once we perceive the cage that traps us can we breach those shackles and transcend into the air up above. Moments ago, the red cardinal transcended into a world untapped by me; years ago, Papa did the same. I just didn’t understand yet. “One flew east, one flew west, one flew over the cuckoo’s nest.”