Postcard Story

11/21

My mother screamed obscenities as I showed her the scrawny featherless crow I had found in our yard. 

 “Those filthy animals carry diseases that will kill you!”

I stood there angry but was not surprised at her words. She had spent many mornings throwing stones at the neighbourhood blackbirds on our street.  Safe to say she was never much of an animal lover.

 “Get that damn thing out of here!”

She pushed me out of the house, pointing to the front yard, her instructions were clear. 

I held my head low as I shuffled outside, knowing very well I was not about to give up the bird.

Glancing over my shoulder, I heard my mother muttering under her breath, most likely something about the creature in my hands. I stopped in my tracks. I had always wanted a pet, and this was my opportunity to get one. 

The next thing I knew, I was running across the yard, over the field, and into the forest. The branches on the pine trees bit my arms as I trudged along. 

“It’s just you and me now,” I whispered to my new friend. My crow opened his beak in distress, or maybe he was saying “fuck you!”; either way, it was hard to tell. 

I don’t recall how long I walked, but the sky turned dark and left me in the shadows. My little bird nuzzled himself into my hoodie. The further I walked into the forest, the more lost I became. I thought it would be best if I headed home; the only problem was, I didn’t know where that would be. I spun in circles trying to find my sense of direction. 

“Where are we supposed to go?”

I glanced down at the crow in my hands, hoping for a piece of wisdom. I stared at the bird; his beady black eyes stared blankly back at me. We were at an impasse. I sat on the cold mossy ground; realizing I had made a grave mistake; I began to cry. 

 I’m not sure how long I sat there, but the more time passed, the more tears streamed down my face. 

 “What have I done?” I sobbed.

 Just as I thought my life was over, I heard footsteps approaching. My mom had found me. 

 “That wasn’t very smart.” Her words were icy, but her warm embrace held me tight and carried both of us the short distance home.

 She tucked me into bed and brought a shoe box filled with old rags for my newfound friend. 

 “Can I keep him?” I asked pleadingly, my face stained with tears. 

 Sighing heavily, she looked at me, then at the crow, and back at me. 

 I’m not sure what came over her, maybe it was God or another higher power, but with a scowl on her face she replied,

“You can keep the bird.”