Blackbird

There was a bird, sitting outside on the maple tree's lowest branch the morning things changed. It was a small blackbird, so dark it was almost blue in the light from the rising sun. It sang, but it sang to greet the dawn alone. No other birds answered the solitary chirps, and eventually, the little blackbird went silent.

She sat on the branches of the old maple tree and stared at the sky, as though looking for answers.

Little Anna Maria watched her from her bedroom window. Anna Maria watched the little blackbird, the way the blackbird watched the sky.

"Anna?"

Anna Maria did not move.

"Anna, what are you watching?" Her mother knelt beside the wheelchair.

Anna Maria closed her eyes. "The bird," she said.

Anna's mother sighed after a moment. "Still nothing," she said to Anna's father, who was standing in the doorway.

"They said it could take some time," Anna's father said.

Anna's mother stood. "It's already been years."

"She'll speak again," Anna's father said.

Anna Maria watched the blackbird who watched the sky. The silent blackbird sang again, but when still no other birds answered, she flew away.

Anna Maria wished she could do the same.