There was once a little bird. She had a beautifully elaborate wrought iron cage with three different levels, a fountain bath area, and a door that despite its ability to close was always opened. The cage itself was five feet tall and almost four feet wide. It stood on a heavy wooden table made from recovered drift wood. The bird lived a life filled with love and freedom. Her friend, which some would say was her owner, believed that without freedom love couldn’t exists. Every day the bird and her friend would sing to each other. While her friend moved about her own cage, the bird would follow and dance from room to room never venturing outside the opened windows. When her friend would leave the house the bird would return to her own home to work on her nest, take a bath, eat, and then fly around her friend’s house. If the weather was nice and the windows were left open she would fly to the ledges and talk to the other birds in the trees. Some of them judged her for being a house bird, but most of them loved company. They would bring her unique sticks from the wooded areas, and in turn she would bring them pieces of the homemade treats her owner made.
She would tell them all about her special home and even lead them window to window until they were outside the one her cage was centered upon. She would pull back the shades with her beak to show them. Most admired the craftsmanship and were happy that she had a home as beautiful as she. Others again pooh-poohed her and her domestic life. Her closest birdfriend, whom she would frequently eat dinner with, once asked her if her ornate home and special treats were worth the confinement. She explained that she didn’t feel trapped or anything of the sort. She was loved and had all the freedom in the world because of it. She had a friend, someone with whom she could laugh, dance, sing, cry, and love in return. Flying ten miles was still ten miles if she did it inside around the house or outdoors (five East, five West). Even if she wanted to leave the house, which she had every opportunity to in the spring, summer, and fall, she wouldn’t – in every room there was a bowl of water and a handmade perch. She knew that she had the ultimate freedom from the love her and her friend shared. While she did occasionally venture out on a day trip with her birdfriend, she always returned. Love wasn’t selfish, it was kind and beautiful. There was freedom in knowing that neither her life nor her friend’s would be the same if she left. While she loved her birdfriend and the time they shared, she knew that the love a friend was worth infinitely more than anything, even her wrought iron house or the trees outside.

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