The Finch and the Apple: A Tall Tale of Forgiveness

 

This story was inspired by a dream my husband had. In it, a bird flew into my mouth. My husband tried to get it to come out, but it was trying to climb out my ear. He doesn't remember if it ever flew away. 

Here is my interpretation of the story.

***
He prayed every morning to God recalling the previous days events and asking for forgiveness when he did something wrong or hurtful or foul even when he wasn't the perpetrator but the victim thinking that he was still somehow to blame. His prayers would sometimes take hours to complete. He rattled his transgressions off, list-style, point by boring points sometimes lost among the mundane. His knees ached from the hours of kneeling on the thinly carpeted floor. He was often late for school excused by his mother's note. He had more than 50 of these excuses on file each year.

One morning after a strange dream where a bird flew into his mouth and built a nest between his ears and incessantly chirped making him unable to pray and hear the word of God, he woke up, showered, ate his breakfast of Pop Tarts and Sunny D, and got to school on time. His teacher looked at him, unsure who he was, and said, "Good morning. You're name again?"

He replied, "Josef Benedict Smith, III."

"Good to finally meet you," and his teacher marked him present for the first time that year.

Josef was in a fabulous mood all day. He even caught himself whistling or humming unaware he was doing it, the song reminiscent of his dream. He smiled as he passed other students in the hall. He didn't sit alone in the cafeteria eating his packed lunch of a ham and American cheese sandwich with Miracle Whip, banana, Chips Ahoy, and strawberry-kiwi Capri Sun. Rather, he risked sitting next to students from his early morning class and they said: "Hello. I'm Sally. Have a seat. We were just talking about..." or "Hey. What's up?" or "God! I fucking hate that teacher. Don't you?" He didn't talk to anyone. He just sat quietly, eating, nodding occasionally in acknowledgment or disagreement. No one could tell.

He arrived home and was greeted by a little bird with yellow patches on its head and breast the rest of its body a brownish gray perched on the apple tree his mom and him planted a few years back. He recognized the bird from his dream and walked to the tree quietly hoping to not disturb it the bird. It just sat there as he approached.

When Josef got close enough to almost touch the bird, it flew off the branch, and Josef gasped loudly remembering the vision from his dream and the bird zipped into his mouth carrying with it a small piece of apple from the tree. Shocked, Josef closed his mouth and swallowed hard, and the bird and the tidbit of apple it carried glided down his esophagus and filled his belly. He became dizzy and stumbled to his room. He plopped down on the bed and the room spun.

Soon, he found himself lost among a landscape of Honeycrisps, finches, bright sunlight, and soft moonglow. The song of dreams echoed creating a beautiful round filling everything.

"Hello," whispered Josef. "Hello?"

He meandered the rows of trees ducking out of day into night and back again. He watched the ochers and viridians and crimsons and grays zip across the sky creating streaks of vibrant color that danced upon his eyes. He became dizzy again, the kind of dizzy right before throwing up, and fell to his knees. He started coughing and small strands of spittle flew out of his mouth. Next, he was heaving, stomach convulsing, and out flew the bird, the apple gone from its beak, wings dripping with saliva.

Josef was exhausted from the ordeal and laid on the grass looking up at the half day, half night sky. The finch hopped on his shoulder shaking its body to remove the spit. A little piece landed in his eye. He wiped it away with the cuff of his t-shirt.

"Hello," sang the finch.

"Hello," said Josef as if talking to a finch were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Why do you pray, Josef," asked the finch, its voice high and airy.

Josef hesitated. Then, replied, "To be forgiven?"

"Forgiveness, dear Josef, is not the land of finches or gods." The finch flew off Josef's shoulder and joined the myriad of finches in the apple orchard as another line in the beautiful round still echoing everywhere. Its gentle lullaby lulled Josef to sleep.

The aroma of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and apple pie wafted up to his bedroom and tickled the hairs inside his nose. He woke up -- the green and yellow walls of his room slowly coming in to focus, a small song outside his window, his mother yelling, "Josef! Josef! Dinner time!" He pushed himself off of his bed and walked to the window. A small finch greeted him with a cocked head and a wink. He smiled.

"I'm coming!" He yelled down to his mom. "Just one minute."

"Hurry up or it'll get cold," she yelled back.

Josef looked at the finch and said, "Thanks for the adventure. I think I understand."

He walked downstairs and joined his mother at the dinner table.

"Mom, why do you pray," he asked.

"Josef," she laughed. "That is a silly question," and dismissed him.

"No, mom. Why do you pray?"

"I don't know, Josef. I just do. I learned it from my parents, and I've been doing it ever since. It's just a habit now, I guess. And besides, if we don't ask God for forgiveness, who do we ask?"

"But what if God can't forgive us?"

"Josef, let's stop this silly conversation. God always forgives. It's His job.

"Now, how was your day?"

Josef smiled. "Good. It was the best."

"Excellent," said his mother as she started sorting through the pile of mail next to her dinner plate. "Now, clean your plate so we can have some apple pie."

The next morning, and every morning after, Josef awoke humming the song of the finches with the taste of apples upon his lips.

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