’Twas a few years ago, a sense of sadness crept over me, and I wrote this piece:
‘She leaves tomorrow, my little one, back to the US to complete her studies. This morning I peeped into her bedroom, and the mirror opposite reflected her face, innocent in sleep, a face I had seen from babyhood, watched taking her first tentative steps, watched entering the portals of learning, even watched boys looking at her more appreciatively than I was happy with!
She leaves tomorrow and my heart aches!
Can’t our children be with us forever? Why should they ever leave?
And from my window I look out, my eyes misty, and hear the sudden frenzied steadfast cooing of pigeons who’ve build a nest in a spot below the flowerpots on the iron grill. I peer down, and find an angry mother pigeon peering up at me.
“What’s the problem?” I ask.
“We’re trying to push him off the nest!” she replies with a look that tells me to mind my own business, but then it’s my flower pot, so I look even more boldly, “But why do you want him to leave?” I ask, “Let him live with you!”
The mother pigeon looked at me with surprise that turned to scorn. I saw her turn to her husband, who looked up at me, “They have to fly Bob!” he said patiently. “Our job was to feed him till his wings would bear his weight and then we have to let him go!”
I peered a little more and watched as the young fellow tried his best to push back into the nest. He was scared, his big eyes looked down at the sheer empty space two floors below. I could see him cry silently in agony.
Suddenly the two gave him a mighty push and the little one was out. He fell, I screamed silently, “he’s gone!” I thought, “They’ve killed him!”
And then I saw, the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a while: His wings, once small and fragile, fluttered open. They spread out and with strength and muscle he soared into the sky, “Look mom, look dad!” he seemed to be saying, “I can fly!”
It was the most glorious sight I’d seen.
The father and mother looked worn out; was it a tear I saw leaving her face, was there sadness on his?
They looked up at me, and in my face, they saw same expression.
“Bob!” said the mother as the father nodded, “We have to let them go and let them fly!”
I peep into her bedroom, she sleeps, I sigh, then nod and smile..!’
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