Freedom?

We were about to walk out the door when we realised a little thrush had flown into the living room. Flapping into the window the poor thing got all confused and couldn't find the door. This was the second time this had happened and admittedly I had to call for help to save the first casualty. This time though, I had to summon up all courage to actually touch a flapping animal. I mean I had to show I could help this poor bird. Jack was watching and looking at me as if to say, "What do we do now Mummy?"
So after many deep breaths and a brain wave of wearing the gardening gloves (I just couldn't do it bare handed, ridiculous, I know), I climbed onto the table and did my very best to gently capture the terrified little creature. After a few failed attempts, I finally got him and with sheer joy and elation set him free. It was one of the most invigorating feelings I have experienced in ages and felt so proud to conquer my stupid fear. We went for a walk today and found a park that held a huge sculpture of three women, setting birds free. Coincidence or providence?
Sadly, my bravery medal will not be in the post, as this evening, we found a curled up little body lying peacefully in the flower bed. Perhaps the little mite was so frightened by the ordeal that it died of shock. The only thing that stops me from dreadful guilt is the fact that we tried our best to save him and saw him fly away. Perhaps that was his spirit flying and his little body was too tired to follow. Rest well, little bird.