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The Empty Nest

I have a tenant in my backyard. A sparrow, a female sparrow that thought my backyard could be a good place to call “home” and dedicated weeks to build a nest above the spotlight. At the beginning she was fearful of my presence, flying away as soon as I opened the door, but as days passed by, we acquainted.

I followed the idyllic journey of life since laying the eggs, to the endless days of incubation until the hatching of the newborns, cute plucked little birds that filled my backyard with a melodious cacophony of sings exteriorizing their eagerness for living.

One day I came back home after work and the backyard was dead quiet. Curious, I peeked into the nest and found it empty. They finally flew away from the nest, I thought, and when I was about to get inside happy with the news, I looked down and found a little sparrow lying dead, eyes closed, with his small wings that failed him extended over the hard concrete floor and his peak open through which escaped his last breath of life.

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I want Wings

When I was a child I was told, like many of us, the biblical story of Adam and Eve that basically explained how God created Eve from the subtracted rib of Adam. Furthermore I was also instructed about the concept of Heaven, that was depicted as a sky high place where everything is beautiful and everybody is happy. The purpose of our lives, as believers, is to make the right actions to be worthy to access Heaven in the afterlife, they explained.

Back then I resolved—with my childhood imagination—the puzzle to reach heaven. My reasoning told me that since heaven was a place high in the sky and the residents of heaven were mostly angels, I needed a pair of wings to fly over. But how I was supposed to get a pair of those feathered extensions and attach them to my back?

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