Striking Out

There once was a little bird who was born in a nest. It was a nice nest, as far as nests go. The problem the little bird had with the nest was the fact that someone else had made the nest; she had not made it her own, therefore she simply could not call it home.

So the little bird walked to the edge of the nest and looked down, something you should never do. But even though the little bird saw all the limbs and branches in her way, she knew sometimes you’ve gotta fall before you fly.

The bird jumped and down she fell, hitting branch after branch. After a few more of such falls, she flew more and more. Even though she wouldn’t fly very far and she often fell, she was on her way to her own Great Perhaps.

Finally, she made it to her own tree, and built her own little nest. She met a young bird and fell in love. While she slept by his side one night, she looked around at the nest and realized how similar it was to her childhood home. This realization baffled her since she had worked so hard to find her own place.

The point, she concluded, was not that she had her own place, a home, or that she had been somewhere new, but that as she fought to get here she became a little fighter, and she became her.

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