I have reason to believe that in my past life I was, in fact, a bird.
I haven’t always felt this way but it has come to my attention that I possess an extremely irrational fear of cats, snakes, bearded men wearing plaid that carry rifles, and extremely clean windows—especially clean windows.
I do not trust clean windows.
The windows in my home are to remain open at all times with the curtains drawn. The reason for this is twofold: I prefer to enter my house through those windows instead of the front door and I fear accidental (possibly fatal) collisions during the times in which I find it necessary to make a hasty entrance. For example, yesterday the neighborhood cat was chasing me and I attempted to jump through my window, which I believed to be open. The result was a painful series of cuts from the shattered glass.
Note to self: learn to distinguish between the cleanliness of a window and the openness of a window.
The second reason is that I wish to provide a welcoming environment for others of my kind. I leave platters of birdseed on my dining room table in the hopes that my past life brethren will find their way into my kitchen and keep me company. I have several birdcages filled with all necessary accommodations should these birds choose to stay. Sometimes in the late afternoon, I attempt to communicate with my companions. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to relearn the language I’ve forgotten. Perhaps one day wings will emerge from my body.
Perhaps one day I will take flight once again.