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The Bright Blue Bird
I was feeling quite sad myself, but the girl sitting on the root seemed absolutely inconsolable. Feeling sorry for her, I asked,
"Are you all right? Why arc you crying?"
At this, the weeping girl lifted her face, giving me another shock. It was exactly like mine!
"I was careless...and my bird flew away,' she said. 'Oh, I did love it so..."
"So that's why you're crying. I've been careless too, as it happens. I made my mother sick…"
I thought for a moment, then asked,
"What kind of bird was it?"
"It was blue. Bright blue. It was so very beautiful..."
"...My mother's eyes are blue as well," I sighed, "but they don't seem to sparkle like they did before she took ill."
We carried on talking for a little while, and before long we'd become firm friends. She loved gardening too, and was enjoying gazing at the sunset the crest of the hill. It seemed we had absolutely everything in common. Eventually, I said,
"Here, take this. It's a flower I grew. It's called a 'warm welcome,' and birds love it. Perhaps it might make your blue bird come back."
I had already put some of these flowers at my mother's bedside to try and make her feel better, as well as some in her hair.
"Thank you!" said the girl, smiling. "Oh my, it really does smell wonderful. Hey, would you like to come to my house?"
I nodded, and off we went, down the hill together and into the girl's house. She placed the flower I'd given her next to the window.
Before long, we heard a sound.
"Peep peep peep! Cheep cheep cheep!"
And a blue bird fiew in through the window.
"Chichi!" shouted the girl, |
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