Oh, to be a bird! A flick of the feathers, a pump of the wings, and the Earth drops away. To surf the currents of air, to dive and swoop and soar! To land on food and carry it off into the sky, and not have to leave a tip. To take a vacation down south every winter without having to worry about time off requests. A tree is your bed, and the great wide open is your home.
Oh, to be a bird.
I wrote this in my journal on this day twelve years ago. I don’t remember writing it, and I don’t remember why I wrote it.