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.