Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I think. And tonight I’m thinking. Nothing is particularly wrong in my life at the moment, which I am thankful for. But there is always that little something that keeps me from being settled. I’m not sure the little something even has a name.
But there is a song that has a lyric that describes the essence of the something. “I’m like a bird. I’ll always fly away. I don’t know where my home is. I don’t know where my soul is. I’m like a bird. I’ll always fly away.”
That song came on while my godson was in the car with me. With all the wisdom of a precocious nine-year-old he asked, “What does she mean? How can anyone be like a bird?”
I thought about and said, “Well, I think she’s saying that she doesn’t stay in relationships with people for a long time. That she gets close and then pulls away. Kind of like a bird. You can ease up on them and then they fly off.”
“Oh, I get it now,” he said, the matter fully resolved in his head.
But it’s not resolved in mine. I don’t know why I take flight. I need a name for the something.