Fly Away
I saw a bird outside my living room window
And it reminded me of my grandma
in the days before she died
how she said she wanted the
hospice bed facing the window
so she could look outside at the trees
how the trees calmed her
how she talked about wishing
she could have put up a bird feeder
but her landlord wouldn’t allow it
— something about raccoons
she’d always liked birds, you see
liked to watch them flit around
outside the window
pecking at their seed
I saw a bird outside my living room window
the patch of blue on its chest bright like a beacon
and I remembered my grandma
and the bird she kept as a pet
it lived in a cage in her living room
and died a week after she did
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Grace Moore is a writer from Washington. She writes fiction, creative nonfiction, and the occasional poem. She also writes articles on travel, mental health, writing, and books. Sometimes she’s funny, or at least that’s what her mom says. Follow her on Instagram @gracieawriter.
