One day while standing in the Billy Sunday room at the mission, I was looking out the clear glass section the forms a cross behind the steel podium. On the cement sidewalk that circles the courtyard I saw a small black fluff that I knew in an instant was a bird that had hit one of the many huge windows. Looking like an upside down comma, it's beak aimed up... beyond the roofs edge, I could feel it's wonder... up there, I just want to go up there, into the sky... why is this even a question? Why won't my body respond? I should just be up there, effortlessly, pop my wings and shoot up, arc over, head home, miles from here in minutes. I'd be glancing down at things absentmindedly as they are no hindrance... normally... shouldn't be, wouldn't be, not like this! What is this? I want to be... up there!
Then I noticed I wasn't the only one to see this lil drama unfolding. They where to the right of the bird, in the day room, probably behind the very window the wounded fluff hit. A couple of homeless dudes, in situations that shouldn't be, unable to fly, watching with compassion, the fellow fallen for a spell.
I wonder how often they, like me, look at the folks living life in a normal kind of way and think how they too just want to be... up there...
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