Flight

Mom and Dad left. So did all of my siblings, and I'm stuck here, all alone, with nowhere to go.

I'm getting hungry, and I know I need to act fast, but the ground is so far beneath me. All I know is the basket I was born in. Home is the familiar feel of the twigs, leaves, and grass beneath my feet. I don't know what's out there in the Great Green Beyond, and I don't know if I want to know.

As the sun rises over the horizon, my stomach begins to growl. I'm growing weaker by the minute, and I can feel it by the way my legs wobble beneath me. The time is now or never.

My stomach drops as I look over the edge of my nest. The ground beneath me seems a lifetime away, and I'm not sure what's supposed to happen next. The shine of the dew drops on the clover and blades of grass is enticing, and others of my kind are beginning to wake.

I hear the calls of my people from all around, and I watch them soar overhead. I make my own cry in an attempt to reach my family, but nobody answers. I have to do this on my own.

I fall.

The ground is encroaching quickly.

I close my eyes, and I flap my wings in a last-ditch effort to save my life.

And before I know it,

I'm flying.

I'm free.

I can feel the wind against my feathers. The sun kisses me gently, warm and forgiving. The other birds are singing, and I wonder if they're cheering me on.

There's only one problem.

No one ever taught me how to land.