The Sparrow

Staring silently, the woman wondered about the small visitor that huddled on the small brick ledge outside her kitchen window. It appeared two days ago; a small brown bird that she only knew as a sparrow. Although she didn’t realize it, she had grown fond of the small bird that braved the elements outside her oasis of warmth. Concerned, and compassionate, she had placed a crumbled bread crust on the ledge. Although it scared the small tenant away, it soon returned to feast on what she normally threw in her garbage.

As she stared, she thought of her friend Beverly. She wouldn’t find anything strange about her behavior.  If fact, she’d applaud the effort. Although they were the same age, Beverly seemed to relish life with a vigor that was only a memory. Much had changed in the last ten years and the changes weighed heavily on the elderly woman that was feeling trapped in her home.

She despised the winter. The freezing winds, ice and snow wrapped her life in a depressing gray. The garden she loved was dead and covered with the remnants of the last snow. Heavy clouds forecast more of the same and the thought only deepened her gloom.  The short warming was over and tonight would bring heavy snow.

She thought of her children. Paul, after years of working, finally became a partner in a law firm in Miami. Rhonda was in Houston. Teaching at the university level was always her dream and now a reality. Both were successful and both mentioned her moving to be close. She always declined the invitation.  She loved her small home and few friends that remained.  She was determined to spend the rest of her life near her memories and be buried next to the husband she lost.

A strong gust of wind interrupted her thoughts. The whistle in the eaves brought her attention back to the small bird in the window. She watched for a few minutes and realized it wasn’t moving. Standing, which usually caused the bird to fly away, didn’t change the posture of the tiny tenant.  Slowly opening the window, caused a small movement, but the bird didn’t attempt to flee. Without hesitation, she reached, grasped the small bundle of feather and placed it on the counter.  She realized the tiny bird was alive but very weak. Going to her closet, she soon returned with a shoe box and some newspaper. She placed the bird on the newspaper, found some bread to crumble and filled a jar lid with water.

Over the evening, she constantly checked on the bird. She would see some signs of movement, but noted the bread and water remained untouched. Finally, it was time for bed. She thought of covering the shoe box but decided it would only frighten the bird.  She went to bed with the hope the bird was only stressed and would be better in the morning.

When she awoke the next morning, she realized the muffled wind was due to the heavy snow that fell outside. Feeling morose, she slowly got out of bed and looked through the edge of the curtains to see the snow was already heavily drifted against the houses in the neighborhood. The remains of her garden were completely covered.  Her spirits sank as she realized it would be another day of wondering if spring would ever arrive. Suddenly remembering the bird, she hurried to the kitchen to check on her patient.

Silently, she approached the counter. She didn’t want to surprise the sparrow; only to have it fluttering in panic around her kitchen. She had no idea what she would do if that happened. Maybe, if it did, she could just feed it until spring. Then, she could open the door and allow it to leave.

Quietly peering over the edge, she was immediately saddened.  The tiny bird was lying on its side.  She knew that all her efforts were futile and the bird had died during the night. She felt defeated and wondered why she had waited so long to check on the bird.

As she observed the tiny puddle of brown feathers, she remembered her husband.  He was a strong and determined man. A cabinet maker by trade, but his work was described, by more than one, as art. Always in demand, he wouldn’t bow to the schedules of architects and home builders. Only when he was satisfied with his work would the cabinets reach the customer.  Nobody ever complained, or regretted the wait. His efforts were beyond exceptional and the demand permitted him to work to the end.

She remembered the last set of cabinets. He’d seemed more preoccupied than usual, but she decided it had to do with his age. He had avoided lunch, which concerned her, since his appetite had fallen off during the last few weeks.  “I only have a few more hours and I’m finished” was his reply when she stuck her head in his shop at noon. When it became late, and she realized he hadn’t been in for hours, she went to his shop; only to find him doubled up in pain on the floor.  

The doctors were more than kind, but their diagnosis was unpleasant to report. Pancreatic cancer, which she now knew was incurable, had been ignored for much too long.  They assured her he wouldn’t suffer. Her questions of treatment were answered with warnings of suffering without any success. In a short month, her husband had faded away. He took his last breath while staring into her eyes. For a moment, she saw the old glimmer and smile, which faded as she watched.  Her son and daughter made it to the funeral, but she’d been alone at his last moments.

Years of grief suddenly overwhelmed. Staring at the small bird released a flood of sadness she denied for too long. Sobbing, she rocked in the chair and allowed the grief to finally come.  She, again, wondered why he never said anything about feeling sick. She, also, thought of the guilt she felt when she realized his quick passing was a blessing. Watching him suffer was devastating to her soul. If he had lingered, she didn’t think she would have survived; she knew it would have ruined her financially.  These thoughts filled her with more sadness and prolonged her tears.

After awhile, she stopped, wiped her tears and thought about the last few days. What little joy she could find had now ended and she wondered how something that seemed so insignificant could affect in her so profoundly. She thought of how she had slowly allowed the despair of age to wrap her in a suffocating blanket. She had given up and was waiting for death. For a second she was infuriated. How could she not notice how pathetic she had become?

Inspired, she thought: “I need a bird feeder”. In wonder of her thoughts, she said to herself: “I’ll call Beverly. She’s always telling me I need to get out more. She’ll know where to buy a bird feeder.”

Standing, she said the small bird. “Well, you deserve a proper burial, but it will have to wait until spring.”  Finding a small freezer bag, she wrapped the sparrow in a napkin and placed it in the freezer. “I’ll bury you in the lily bed.”

Determined, she started making plans. She had things to do and people to call. “I’ll call Paul and Rhonda. That will get their attention. They’re probably dreading a call.” Laughing at her treachery, she suddenly felt younger than she felt in years. Looking out the window, she noticed the snow had stopped and the sky was brightening. Thinking of the sparrow, she suddenly felt guilty. She carefully cut up half a loaf of bread and threw it out the kitchen window.  Feeling satisfied, she sat and looked in her book for phone numbers. She realized she’d forgotten them all. “Never again.” She whispered and smiled at the thought.