Once upon a time there was a peach faced love bird named Buddy. He was born to a lovely peach faced love bird family, and grew up hand raised by humans.

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One day, his owners took him to markets south of Darwin, and there he was sold to a little girl named Taylah, and her dad.
Taylah loved her new found friend so much, that she managed to convince her mum that Buddy should live with her at their house, rather than at her fathers where he was only visited once a fortnight. Reluctantly, her mother agreed. (Reluctant because the house already resembled some kind of farm.)

As it turned out, Buddy was not just another bothersome animal, like the dog that ate shoes, or the recalcitrant rabbit, but was a good fun personality to have around. He sang songs to the mother whilst she pottered in the kitchen, and loved nothing better than sitting down and being petted by his owners.

Sometimes the mother would look at the lovely little mate and feel sorry for him. It must be a terrible thing to have wings and not be able to fly. To have the ability to soar the heights, and yet be confined to a tiny cage.
The mother understood too well that caged in, blocked feeling. She herself knew that she was more capable than her depression fuddled brain would let her be.
She felt like a bird with her wings clipped.

Buddy was a clever bird, and he soon learned the best ways to get attention. He enjoyed people whistling to him, and visiting his cage, but his favourite thing was being out, and sitting on a shoulder. Boatman’s was his favourite, but he would settle for anyone’s.

He began to try and work his way out of the cage; pulling at the pegs on the doors, pushing his food bowl up to create a gap.
A couple of times he was found wandering the kitchen table, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief that the cat was no where to be found.

On one particular day, he was more determined than ever. His cage was sitting on a table outside, where pigeons would come up and converse with him; it was the best a mother could do to make life as it should be for a parrot.
Buddy was trying to join his pigeon friends, and more than once, had been caught with his cage door ajar, trying to get out.

In hindsight, that should have been a warning sign. He should have been brought inside, and extreme measures taken. But no one thought it would come to this.

He can’t have got out for long. When they found him, his body was still warm, his feathers slightly damp from the dogs mouth, his eyes closed just like they did when he was sleeping.
It was hoped he had just fainted, or was maybe in shock.

The hope was in vain.

In the space of a few short moments, he had broke out, and walked onto the lawn to his death.
Poor, sweet Buddy.

A little girl cried as she buried him. A mother poured her energy in to digging a grave deep enough. A boatman cradled the soft, warm body in his hand. He had not been with the family long, but he had been a part of it. His crazy, carefree nature had meant he fit straight in.

But now he was gone.

When the next morning dawned, the mother gazed sadly at the empty cage, missing the beautiful sounds of his songs. There was a sadness in her she wouldn’t have expected, but also something else.
Admiration, maybe?
Or understanding?

Buddy had done what she herself was trying to do; what she was doing everyday the medication kicked in stronger, and she forced herself to be better.

Breaking free.

Little birds weren’t built for little cages, and the mother wasn’t built for half of nothing.
She knows what she can be, knows who she is. And knows that not even depression in all it’s ugly glory can steal her future from her.

And so she tries, pushing on, persevering and running the race set before her, taking lessons from a peach faced love bird who refused to settle for less than the best.

She’s breaking free.

Running
Climbing
To get to the place
To be all that we can be
Now’s the time, we’re breaking free
Breaking Free – High School Musical

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linking with Kate Says Stuff. Thankful for the life of a little bird.