A baby bird jumps from the nest, and spreads its wings. It rejoyces and starts to fly quickly up and down and all around. Letting the world know of its accomplishment.
Eventually the baby bird climbs back into the nest for one of the last times. It snugglez with its mother and shares her warmth, all is well with the baby bird. The next day the sun comes up and the baby wakens. It squawks to its mother and tell's her what he is about to do. He tells her that he can fly, and he is very good at it. He wants her to watch and just like any good parent she does. She watches him as he hops to the edge of the nest and takes a leap. But then something is wrong, the baby isn't flying, its not spreading its wings. He doesn't know what is wrong he has flown before, why won't he move his wings. He can't find the way to do it, and fly like he did yesterday when everything was happy and carefree. The bird tumbles to the ground but right before the little bird collides with the earth his little wings start to work, and he starts to fly. He flies higher than he has ever flown. He passes the nest and his proud mother as she watches him go, up above her. He can't stop just there, his wings carry him up higher and higher until he is up past the clouds never to see his old life again. The little bird is happy now not scared of hitting the ground, he no longer has to worry about his flight and the effect it could have on others, such as his mother. She is happy for him and realizes he feels no pain now, she rejoyces, at her job as a mother. The little bird has died, death is something we all should look forward to. It stops our pain, and starts a new adventure. But until it happens all we can do is flap our little wings.
