When Mommy and Daddy Fight

A bird is sitting on the nest in the tree. She leaves. I see four tiny eggs. Only three eggs were there yesterday. The father bird sits on the nest until the mother comes back. Other birds are still singing. What a pretty sound.
Rags and I watch the birds. We stand still and quiet so we don’t scare them.

I don’t want to go downstairs.
“Come down to breakfast now.”
I have to go. Good-bye, birds. We’ll see you later.

The green lamp isn’t in the living room. I almost ask where it is. I see a piece of green glass on the floor. I don’t ask.

The kitchen is quiet. We eat.
Mommy and Daddy are arguing without words now.

Many days. Many fights.

I want to grow up.
It takes so long to grow up.
I don’t think I’ll ever grow up.

No eggs are in the nest now. Four baby birds open their mouths wide. Mother and Father bird fly back and forth bringing food to their hungry babies.

More days. More fights.

The baby birds are bigger now. They have feathers. Rags and I watch every day. Always we’re still and quiet. We don’t want them to be scared.

The babies try to fly. They aren’t very good at it. Their little wings flap. They flutter only a few inches on the same branch. Oh how I hope they don’t fall to the ground. They could never fly back up.

Every day they fly a little better. Now they can even fly to other branches and back. One day they really do it. They fly away. The nest is empty. Even the mother and father bird don’t come back to it.

I’m sad because I’ll miss them. But I’m happy for the babies. They grew up. And flew away.
I wish I could grow up and go away.

Birds grow up fast. Gram says it takes longer for people to grow up.
But she says I will grow up someday. I just wish I could grow up faster.

I tell Rags the angry fighting noises scare me. Rags licks my face. I feel better when I talk to Rags. But sometimes I wish he wasn’t just a dog. I wish I had a person to tell how I feel. Who could I tell? Maybe I could tell--

I hear loud fighting voices. The angry words bang on my ears. I hold my hands over my ears.

Then I hear the prettiest music. I run to the window. A bird is singing. After a while it flies away.

But I keep its song in my head. No one tells me to turn it off. The bird’s song pushes the fighting noises out.

I will listen to the music in my head whenever I need to.

And someday I will grow up.