Written: 7/7/2025

When I was 5 one morning I walked onto the
apartment porch with fake grass,
there was a red shriveled baby bird.
It laid on the plastic k-mart table chirping.
Had no idea how it got there.
Walked inside to tell my mom who was in the living room
next to the big fish tank filled with the dead dollar store
gold fish.
"There's a bird on the table!" I yelled.
She walked out and saw it.
She picked it up with a cloth and took it inside.
I watched her feed it milk from the fridge with a spoon.
Throughout the day we took care of that baby bird
the mother either rejected or lost.
Mom would hold it in the cloth like she was holding my baby brother.
We took turns walking up to it to make sure it was breathing.
When my father got home I was wrapped in anxiety.
He was yelling and angry which was nightly,
every time he came home from work he would be yelling and cussing.
He went to the grocery store and we ate disgusting food he could hardly afford.
He was yelling at my mom as I snuck a peek from my room door about how that ******* thing can't stay inside.
"It's gonna keep me up all night!"
So my mother put the bird back outside on the plastic white table.
Dad watched t.v. and I breathed quietly then after an hour or so everyone went to bed.
Didn't have to get ready for school due to it being summer break.
Walked to the porch and when swinging the door opened
the bird was dead.
My father is a good man and I have a good relationship with him 30 years after this.
I learned later on he was struggling to stay sober and provide for us working 3 jobs
but at the time all I saw is that because he was inconvenienced
something innocent had to die.
I do love my father now but this was one of the catalysts
to not trusting or wanting to be near him for the
next 25 after.