Let Mama Bird Fly

What exactly is this place? There are only a couple of things that I can do. I can just stay calm, observe and wait for an opportune moment to leave. After all, if this is jail or some other kind of institution, my panicking would only assure my staying here longer. Even worst, I could be placed in some dark, cold, lonely place, completely cut off from the rest of the world. It can’t be jail because a woman knocked on the door a few minutes ago and asked me if I needed anything. Clean towels? Breakfast? It cannot be jail. No jail is this beautiful. Besides, what crime have I committed? It could be an institution. But what kind of institution would have all of my favorite things in what seems to be a penthouse suite? Only it’s on the second floor of this building. My favorite clothes are in the closet, and my favorite pieces of furniture are here with all my personal items in drawers or on shelves. Neither of my sofas is present, however. Instead, my dream sofa, the one that I fell in love with when I was on vacation touring the famous furniture show rooms in Denver, is positioned in front of a gigantic window. Above it are Flip and Floppy, my canaries singing as they look down at Speedy, my four-year old turtle who seems to be having a ball in the terrarium that I had so much fun decorating with a rain forest in mind. There are no bars to be seen anywhere, and the door is only locked to those trying to enter. It seems that I can go out if I choose. But I am afraid to venture out. Maybe this is a cruise. But when did I book a cruise, and to where? And why am I alone? The strange thing is that this aloneness does not feel like isolation or loneliness; it feels like privacy, like alone in peace. Maybe I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I should stop thinking so hard and just wait to wake up. That’s the only explanation; this is a dream.

In the midst of being caught in puzzling thoughts and overwhelming emotions, Ellen hears a noise and sees a sheet of paper that someone has slid underneath the door. “If you want to know why you are here, how you got here, or how you may depart, be in the big dinning room at 2:00. Lunch is served from 11:30 – 1:00 in one of the smaller dinning rooms, or you may be served in your suite. Let one of the servants know your plans for lunch by ringing the bell on the night stand next to your bed.” There is no way she would ring any bell, but she certainly intends to have some questions answered. So, she lets her mind rest as she holds on to the note and stretches out on the sofa that she had once longed to possess. More than five hours have passed, and the little night-stand bell rings on its own. She looks at the clock and sees that it is 1:35. She remembers the note, puts her shoes on, brushes her teeth and her hair and rushes out into an enormous hallway lined from ceiling to floor with magnificent windows. The sparkle causes her to look up and see the crystal light fixtures like none she has seen before. Aviaries and tropical plants in colorful, ceramic pots of all shapes and sizes hang or stand in front of the windows. Beyond the windows, blue skies and trees of every shade of green imagined create a breathtaking background. She wants to stop and take it all in, but she is afraid of being late. So, she follows the parade of women who all seem to be headed in the same direction, in all likelihood, the big dining room.

Ellen has always been what some would call reserve, never starting conversations with strangers, and she has always been one of few words. It has always been her way to observe, to listen and to wait and see. That’s why she wouldn’t ring the bell or look out of the door or leave without some directions. Unlike the woman who joins her at the round table where she had hoped to be alone. Janet is totally different than her table mate. When she woke up and found herself in the beautiful, strange place at 8:00 in the morning, she wasted no time in going out into the common areas to investigate. She never once thought that she was in jail, but she certainly had considered an asylum for the insane. She likes herself but has often faced the thought of losing her sanity. And many times she had feared that someone might mistake her for being crazy, and they would have her locked up just for being herself and it would stick. But how had she gotten here? Things are quite lovely and have surpassed everything she has ever dreamed for herself. And this is saying a lot for a woman known for being high maintenance by everybody that knows her well. She is high maintenance but in a most independent kind of way; she asks very little of others while insisting on the best for herself. But she had ventured outside of what seemed to have been her private quarters because she needed answers. However, she was careful in her approach when she asked where she was, who was in charge and what she needed to do in order to go home. They had told her the same thing that was written on the note; all of her questions would be answered in the dinning room today at 2:00. But she did not wait in her room. She visited, and she toured the premises. She had her lunch in one of the smaller dinning rooms where she met several other baffled women. It had taken all in her to keep her cool when she saw some of them. They looked crazy, and she wasn’t sure that they weren’t. They were crying, some weeping softly and some practically screaming their heads off in panic, fear and frustration. “Get me out of here! Where am I? I want to go home!” That’s all she could hear. They looked crazy, and they sounded crazy. But who wouldn’t under these circumstances? It’s crazy not to feel that way. Ellen and Janet both felt that way but they knew that voicing it in such emotional ways could have made things worst. Their responses are probably due to the fact that they are in their seventies. The other women are younger, in their late forties, early fifties, and late fifties and sixties. At any rate, they have all gathered together in one room, and most of them have become calm, at least calm enough to hear.