From the Sky - Part IV

I came home from the hospital a week later. When I stepped out of our car, I looked across the street to Uncle's yard. The tree was gone, along with the picnic bench and all the bird feeders. Only the garden remained. Tears clouded my vision, and my father gently put his arms around me and guided me toward the house.

"We're home, Renata. We're home."

And so we were. And that night, that one night only, I dreamt of scarlet tanagers, hundreds of them, flying out of Uncle's honey locust and past me as I stood alone in his yard, an empty golden birdcage in my right hand, a broken scarlet tanager egg in my left, and Uncle's voice drifting from his kitchen as he sang something slow and sad in Italian.

Freedom lost...


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