Another bleak, dreary morning. The month of February could be so gray, so dim. A slight shadow from day's dawning crept beneath the windowshade and ran slender threads of light across the patchwork quilt, gradually illuminating the couple lying peacefully in sleep. The old four-poster bed was cozy and, as on previous mornings, the two were deep in slumber, oblivious to the new day.
Slowly, as though emerging from a fathomless dream, Belinda turned her head and opening her eyes, glanced at the now vivid shadows of light dancing across the multi-colored quilt. Soon, she knew, the alarm would sound, the harsh buzz stirring Johnny to wakefulness. Almost always she awakened before the alarm and enjoyed the silent space to think and reflect as she watched the light shadows. It was a precious time to her -- listening to Johnny's rhythmic breathing, snuggling close to his warmth, and savoring the comfort of their love. All so beautiful until a few weeks ago when the doubts began to creep into her thoughts! Ah, those nagging little doubts -- better put them aside for this morning lest she become depressed again.
Impulsively, Belinda abandoned the bed and slipped into the living room. She looked around the familiar scene -- two glasses half empty of soft drink, overflowing ashtrays, the TV flickering with the sound off. Everything was exactly as they'd left it last night, their heated argument interrupting the movie they'd been halfheartedly watching. Johnny's angry words echoed in her memory: "Belinda, for the last time, I need some space to be alone sometimes! To have my own interests!" He'd then stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
As she stood there silently contemplating that painful parting, she couldn't help wondering if this was the end? What did this mean about their love? Was it over? Was the romance gone? Why did Johnny insist on time alone instead of enjoying the exclusive togetherness they'd shared? In the one year of their marriage, neither had ever expressed the desire for privacy, other outside interests. She thought they both cherished their love as a special, sacred bond, so all-consuming that nothing could intrude into this euphoric realm. Ah, but now... it was changing, their relationship fragile and strained, tension and worry always shadowing them.
Johnny was awake now, beginning his usual routine: a shower, a shave and quick cup of coffee before leaving for work. Belinda dutifully began the coffee perking, put two cups on the kitchen table. The small apartment was suddenly almost like a prison, confining -- not the tiny haven she'd once thought it to be.
When Johnny came into the room, his blue eyes had a sheepish, wary look but the wistful grin and good morning kiss he gave her seemed to indicate he wasn't still angry. And she felt relieved, glad last night's heated words had not kept him away more than an hour.
He sat down, sipped his coffee, staring at her solemnly and then said, "Hey Belinda, I never want us to argue again like last night. Uh, I said stuff I didn't mean..."
"Oh? Then you don't really need space?" She leaned forward, thinking how this could make everything all right.
But his face clouded, and he stiffened as he stated flatly, "No, I still need space. I just want you to understand we both need space sometimes...other interests, privacy... to be individuals."
Belinda felt as if a knife was twisting in her heart; he hadn't changed his mind, he still wanted to get away from her! Their love was dying and there was nothing she could do to save it! Why, why was this happening?
Johnny finished his toast, took the last sip of coffee, stood, then bent to give her a light kiss on her cheek. "See you this afternoon."
And then he was gone, dismissing her as if she'd accepted his demands for 'space'! The door closed behind him and she felt despair settle over her -- and she suddenly had to get out of the cramped apartment.
She grabbed her coat from the closet, slipped it on and went out into the gray morning, thinking she needed to find a job; maybe all this free time wasn't good for her? At least when she worked in the insurance office, the days were busy, full of activity. The past year without employment had been nice, she'd enjoyed her freedom...but now, the idea of long, boring days ahead seemed like a long stint in solitary confinement.
Driving along the streets of the small town, Belinda became aware of the dank, spiritless wintry landscape; the early morning sun had disappeared, and thick low clouds spit out a drizzly rain...tall, thin treelimbs naked and stark. The gray landscape only added to her already dark mood; she drove aimlessly, thinking she could visit friends, drop in on her mother but somehow those diversions didn't appeal to her today.
Finally, Belinda decided she'd go back to the apartment, try to come up with a plan for finding an office job. As she drove along the street, she saw the corner market and pulled in, remembering they needed some milk.
The young girl behind the counter was cheerful, smiling brightly and commenting, "Looks like rain again, doesn't it?
Belinda was too self-absorbed to reply, only nodding and starting out the door, her head lowered, mind spinning with worry. But just as she exited, she saw a small gray bird flying in blindly toward the plate-glass window, hitting it with force and falling limply to the sidewalk.
She stopped, momentarily stunned at the wild flight and savage end to the bird's life. Quickly, she went to see if it was indeed dead...but as she got closer, she realized the bird was only stunned, in shock yet breathing and had its eyes open. Since no one else was around, she scooped up the tiny bird, holding it in her hand -- the feeling of fragile life so precious, so tenuous.
Back in the car, she gently put the bird on the seat beside her, thinking it might not live. But if she could get it home, put it in a quiet, safe place, it might get better, recover fully. Or she could call someone, ask for help -- maybe a Vet could offer advice, even see it if necessary.
The bird was utterly still, its eyes wide with a strange fear; she kept watching it, one eye on the street as she drove back to the apartment. Then she picked it up, felt is body tremble, a sure sign it was alive, and hurried inside. Gently, Belinda lay the bird on the sofa, hurrying into the bedroom, wondering if she had an empty shoebox , which would make a good secure place for it to recover.
As she opened the closet door, Belinda heard a fluttering sound from the living room, and spun around, hurrying back to find the bird flying around wildly in the open living room; it was going in circles, darting up and down, frantic to flee.
Obviously, it had regained consciousness and was in danger of hitting a wall, so she grabbed up a towel from where Johnny had left it, thinking she'd toss it over the bird, capture it before it killed itself.
But no matter how close she got, the bird eluded her; it flew into the kitchen, round and round, disorientated. Belinda stood still at last, watching as the bird flung itself toward the window; then spun away, diving under the doorframe and soaring into the bedroom, hitting a window and then flying through the room, back into the living room.
She took up her pursuit again, but soon realized it was futile: the more she pursued it, the more elusive it became. Exhausted and discouraged, she slumped down on the sofa, watching the bird come to a crashing halt as it hit the wall, fell to the floor where it lay breathing hard.
How stupid she'd been, Belinda chided herself; she shouldn't have captured the bird, brought it here. Yet she'd been honestly trying to help the bird, rescue it...to save it, protect it, let it recover. But the bird needed freedom to survive, and captivity would kill it.
As she saw the bird moving, preparing for another attempt at escape, Belinda suddenly had one of those odd, piercing insights that sometimes come when you aren't even concentrating on solving your problems. She suddenly understood what Johnny had been trying to tell her: He needed some freedom, she needed freedom; they both needed freedom to grow and develop as individuals, apart as well as together. To confine their love, to capture each other in a tight enclosed circle without other outlets, would suffocate and smother them both. Their relationship would die as surely as the bird would die if trapped, limited, confined.
Oh how wrong she'd been, Belinda thought! Johnny wasn't trying to end their love, he was only seeking to expand their horizons as individuals -- and this very personal growth would sustain and enrich their relationship as the years unfolded. What a mistake she'd made in doubting their love!
Belinda saw the bird lift off the floor, and she got up, opened the living room door wide.... giving the bird its freedom, its chance to survive. And as the flutter of wings beat against the winter wind, Belinda stood and watched the bird soar into the misty morning -- free at last.
