Francine Sparrow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

I’ve acquired an unexpected delightful feathered friend. Ironically, its life’s little packages that brings joy to those who need them the most.

Submitted: June 10, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 10, 2018




I’ve acquired an unexpected delightful feathered friend. Ironically, its life’s little packages that brings joy to those who need them the most.

I hate hospitals.

The room, which I’ve become more or less a permanent fixture in, is your every day clinical domicile. Equipped with a mechanical bed, TV, stand, food tray, and a Norman Rockwell lithograph hanging on the wall above my head. Not to mention that clean antiseptic alcohol stench that gets in your nose, stands your hair on end. Its aroma permeates indigenously through out the halls, lurking, stalking, and finding you wherever you are.

I hate hospitals.

At least there’s a decent sized window, opening to a beautiful panoramic view of the local mountains. Their stony granite gray shows patches of green where the tall pines grow silhouetting the mountainous peaks (like tall proud soldiers forming their last bastion of defense). The fog in the early morning accentuates their beauty by clinging to its sides, changing shapes with the wind around the contoured terrain like floating apparitions. When rays of sunlight hit the granite in just such a way, the results are simply breathtaking, indescribably captivating one might say. Makes you appreciate the Lord knew exactly what he was doing.

I hate hospitals.

The window, rectangular in shape, has a glass enclosure, which opens pivoting from the bottom, providing plenty of fresh air when you want it. The outside of the window is protected by a metal diamond shaped grid, (preventing escapes I suppose), but perfect for holding little pieces of bread to feed the abundant varieties of local birds. Very beautiful birds, up close and personal, eating the bread while looking in. They check me out with quick bird like fascination as they adjust their heads to better see me, first the left eye, then the right, conversing with one another as they congregate on the ledge…

"Oh Harriet, come here, quick! You must have a look. This one’s got blonde hair, blue eyes and reading a book".

Miss Harriet Blue Jay was stuffing her beak with all her favorite kinds of fruit from the trees up the street. She immediately flew over, nudged up to Red Robin as she looked in to see; both jockeying and positioning to get a better look, at the big blonde blue-eyed people person laying in bed and reading a book.

"Yes, yes quite interesting very interesting indeed…these blue-eyers are a much nicer, good species don’t you agree?" 3

The Blue Jay looked at me, and adjusted her head, as birds seem to do, nodding in agreement "yes, indubitably, I certainly do".

It’s commonly known Blue Jays are the gossips of the avian realm, though Red Robins hold a very close second, so its not surprising what they had to say next…

"Did you see Stanley Raven being chased away by that tall despicable black haired human person?"

"Heard Stanley got hit in the tail feather by a flying rock", Red Robin tweeted in obvious disgust.

"Yes, yes, horrible, simply horrible. Stanley lost quite a few feathers in that encounter, what a debacle, I heard the others say"

"Oh yes, yes, poor Stanley, poor, poor Stanley, he is such a dear" said Ms. Blue Jay as she sadly continued "he’ll be convalescing in his nest for awhile, indeed, for a long while I do hear"…

Red Robin and Miss Blue Jay continued yammering back and forth for a while in good fashion until that magical summons touted that only birds can hear, then looked at me once more and as quickly as they arrived, flew away and disappeared.


After eating a barely palatable meal, which consisted of a Salisbury steak like substance, I was about to turn the TV on when I heard a sudden flutter of wings. It seemed closer than the usual flutter I was accustomed of hearing. Feeding bread to the birds through the grating created a cacophony of flutter, but this had a proximity to it.


… Like a runaway orphan who’s been hiding for fear of being caught, loneliness and isolation took it’s toll when I saw a little brown head peer at me from the left hand corner of the window…cautiously at first.

I didn’t want to frighten my little visitor, so I turned away pretending not to notice. Then ever so slightly, ever so sheepishly she would laterally move closer into my if testing the waters to see if it was safe, every step a calculative endeavor. Out of the corner of my eye I finally saw her… a Sparrow. Somehow, she maneuvered herself between the metal grating finding herself in a precarious situation…

She couldn’t get back out! 4

I can’t tell by looking at a Sparrow if it’s male or female, I only assume it’s female from her dainty somewhat feminine appearance. But that doesn’t really matter, like I said previously, good things arrive in small packages…

I always thought time to be an enemy, but recently I’ve come to think of time as a companion. Walking through life side by side, whispering in my ear, reminding me to appreciate everything as it came along…for it might not ever come again.

I really appreciate this little visit…

After officially acknowledging her presence, she perched herself between the upper ledge of the wooden crossbeam that separates the window into nine equal frames.

Sitting down quietly at the edge of my bed I maneuvered myself closer getting a better look at the beautiful little creature gazing contentedly at me perched on the wooden cross beamed window keeping her from leaving.

What sounded like a fluttered sigh of accepted relief she turned, tilted and twisted her head just enough to get a better look at the big Blond blue-eyed people person kindly looking back at her from the edge of his bed.

I thought it oddly peculiar she wasn’t panicked or nervous or unsure what to do, instead exuded a sense of confidence in me while still keeping a safe distance as any respectable Sparrow would undoubtedly do.

I live in the last place I thought I would ever be; wearing diapers in a warehouse of people waiting to die … My only interaction with the world sadly enough are the nurses and doctors. I look forward going outside when the weather is decent enough and nobody is looking…Still a rebel at heart…Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll…the sex and drugs are long gone but rock and roll will never die… The things we all take for granted are the things I love the most…fresh air, a good book and listening to Led Zepplin and Pink Floyd until I fall asleep hoping to pass on to Comfortably Numb…yet I always wake up…think I’m stuck in a Groundhog day loop.

Family visits from time to time It’s nice to see them, my grandkids are older but they still love me…It makes me feel good they grew up tall and strong…Being the old cantankerous man that I am I should have taken a dirt nap 30 years ago.

A couple of days ago I prayed for a friend to keep me company, I don’t fear dying, my fear is that when I do die everything about me and what I’ve done in my life will die with me…I will end up with a grave stone over grown with weeds forever sealing my fate…

"Is this my friend Lord?" I said to myself looking upwards toward the sky. 5


Reminds me of the Dr. Seuss story I always read to my children, ‘Horton Hears a Who!’

Let’s see, how did it go? …

"Through the high jungle treetops, the news quickly spread; "He talks to a dust speck! He’s out of his head!

Just look at him walk with that speck on that flower!"

And then Horton walked, worrying, almost an hour.

"Should I put this speck down?" Horton thought with alarm.

"If I do, these small persons may come to great harm. I can’t put it down.

After all a persons a person no matter how small."

Perhaps friendship does come in different shapes and sizes after all…yet, there she is, seemingly content to stay with me, and her new found lair …

"Thank-you Lord...for answering my prayer".

A couple of hours passed…mutually ignoring one another to see if our new found association would stand the test of time…I, looking at her, and Miss Sparrow, inquisitively looking at me with her rapid movements tilting her head up, down, then left, right. And for a while it was a stand off; me, the big blonde blue-eyed people person…and her, the little aviary minded fowl.

I filled a plastic drinking cup with water thinking she might be thirsty. Slowly, I placed the cup of water on the lower ledge, Miss Sparrow backing off proportionately; not out of fright mind you, more on the lines of mutual respect. Jumping off the higher ledge to the lower as soon as I got back to bed, went to the cup and proceeded to drink.

She was thirsty.

While she satisfied her thirst, I was thinking of a name to coincide with her personality.

It’s always been a little hobby of mine placing names with faces. Names are important; they should reflect the person they represent. And for some reason Francine comes to mind. Hmmm…yes… Francine. "That is nice," I said with a slow approving nod.

Looking at her drink the water I was satisfied. "Miss Francine Sparrow it is then".

Franny for short… 

After drinking her fill and eating some of the fruit I placed on the ledge Franny jumped to the middle top tier, perched and settled in for the evening just outside of my view, but within the diamond shaped grid that keeps the big blonde blue-eyed people person from leaving.

"Its O.K.", Franny thought to herself, "I like this friendly blue-eyed people person, I really do much indeed". Then Franny yawned a "good night", stretched her wings and drifted off to sleep.

As the last of the sun slowly diminished behind the mountains, and night encroaching like a wave, the last tangentable rays of gleaming sunlight flickered between the precipices of the upper peaks as if God himself checked upon his children to see if all was right, saying "good night" with a loving caress, slowly dissolved illuminance into the night.

"Good night Miss Francine Sparrow", I said with a loving caress then reached over and turned off the light.

© Copyright 2020 JMichaels. All rights reserved.

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