“How could you be so stupid?” He looked me in the eye with that cold stern look he has and scowled in utter disapproval. And then it began, another one of his rants.
His words hung in the air, meaningless. They came out of his mouth and just sat there. They didn’t move; they surely didn’t move me. I was immune to his words by now. I’d heard them so often. They were always the same, but usually they at least moved something. Not this time though. Today they fell flat. Today, they were powerless.
Yes, I was listening to his words, but I wasn’t really hearing them. I didn’t need to, and I certainly didn’t want to. Instead, I heard the birds. They weren’t loud like him. They were distant, mysterious, cheerful.
There was one far off to my left who kept singing this patterned melody. The pitch was so high that it pierced my ears, but it was so musical that I couldn’t help but be his audience. After each song, a scattered group of birds would chatter in response.
They listened so well. They were always silent and tentative when the lone bird sang, and they were always ready with the right response. It was like a dance, what they did, their melodies intermingling and swirling together in the air. Their voices moved things. Their voices moved me.
If only I could move people like that. If only my voice held such power and understanding. If only I could actually say what I meant.
“What were you thinking?” By now he was pacing. He looked like a naval sergeant, steaming with anger. His face was even starting to turn red. I wanted to run and hide. But that’s what I always wanted when he yelled, when his words moved me. But not today. Not this time. I would stand still and strong. I would not be moved.
I noticed the leaves on the trees, some falling, others merely waving. They knew my battle, but they fought against the wind. Every day they fought for their place on those trees. Although, every day they grew weaker.
The wind blew, and one of the leaves broke free. Perhaps it lost the battle against the wind, but it appeared to win against the tree. Maybe that was a better analogy. Freedom. I smiled gently as the leaf fell clumsily to the ground.
“Are you even paying attention?” He came up to my face again, grabbed me by the shoulders, and pushed me to the ground. I could hear the leaf mourn as the wind scraped it across the crisp lawn. And then it fell, right off the edge of the bank and into the pond. It made no sound.
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