The Tale of Stuntbird.

Back in January, I was thinking to myself that I have never once in my life been responsible for road kill (at least that I knew of). A fact, by the way, I was quite happy about, given that the mere sight of an animal lost to the road makes me incredibly sad EVERY time.

Well, on my second trek down from Seattle to Orange County in 2 weeks (never again...), it happened. I was driving a big, yellow rental truck, singing along to the Smashing Pumpkins when something hit the windshield. Terrified, I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the aftermath of my horrible act. I gasped, incredibly saddened by what had just transpired, my perfect record tarnished forever by this senseless murder. I turned to my cousin, nearly in tears, and uttered the words I had hoped I would never have to "I think I just killed a bird!"

He could have just apologized, given me a frown and a "chin up kid, it happens" but instead, he spun a story so imaginative, so fabulous, that it could only have come from someone I have known my entire life. "Nah," he responded, nonchalantly, "he was just practicing, ya know, for that big movie role."

These words, obviously nowhere near what I had expected, took me very much by surprise. "What on Earth are you talking about?" I was still in shock over what had just happened, and was now even more thrown off, not a great combination when trying to navigate a vehicle containing all of your possessions (in addition to yourself & your kin). My cousin smiled: "I think he was a stuntbird."

We spent the next half hour of our seemingly endless drive creating the life story of Stuntbird that brought him to the moment when he hit my windshield. "He just landed this amazing role", "He is the Tom Cruise of the bird world!", "I know you saw him in the rearview, but that was just part of the stunt - he had to make it look real didn't he?"

My emotional state turned from partial heartbreak to brimming with hope and a childlike state of imagination. I liked this version of the story SO much better, even if it was complete bollocks. I didn't care - I couldn't change that past event, and in that moment what mattered was creating a better present for me to be a part of.

No matter how far-fetched, the Tale of Stuntbird reminded me of fairytales and of being snuggled up in bed with a teddy bear waiting to hear a bedtime story before drifting off to dreamland. It was pure comfort in a moment when I felt sad and vulnerable and upset. It was a verbal hug, and it made all of the difference. All of it.

It reminded me that sometimes all you need to be brave is for someone to tell you you are. So much of this life is what we make of it, and what a better reality to exist in. One where the bad things seem a little better, where the monsters in the closet are figments of our imagination and where the world welcomes us with a warm embrace instead of a cold shoulder.

Don't be afraid to believe in the Stuntbirds of life. We can't always live with our heads in the clouds, but sometimes, it's the only way to live.

♥mb.