I was on my way somewhere when I noticed an enormous pigeon had taken the place of one of the houses in the cul-de-sac. It gazed down and watched me as I approached it. It was the strangest feeling though, staring at its full, black eyes. There was no judgment, no hostility, no fear. Only curiosity with every step that I took through its sticky lawn of bubblegum.

When I was finally standing in front of it, my legs gave out from struggling against the gum and I collapsed to the concrete. The pigeon gave a soft coo and extended its wings out around me, making a barrier from everything outside. The smoke thinned and the air felt clean on my lungs, enough so that I felt myself pulled onto my feet.

“Something is troubling you, my friend. Would you like to tell me of the trials you face?” The pigeon asked. Its voice was mystical and I didn’t recognize the words, but they resonated and felt clear in my head.

“I’m lost and I can’t remember the way back to meaning,” I told the pigeon. Tears welled in my eyes. The pigeon nodded and I felt its understanding.

“Just this once, would you like me to guide you back to the path?” The pigeon asked, its head cocked to the side. I nodded my head and sniffled, trying to hold back tears and snot that was escaping me. The pigeon looked down at me with pity, looking me over. Then, it spread its wings and a gust of wind cleared a path into the sky in the direction that I had walked from.

“But that’s the way I came from,” I called out to it as it floated off the ground.

“And it is the way that I know,” the pigeon responded as it flapped its wings and floated back the way I had just walked. With each flap, the smoke cleared and homes were revealed, the families inside having meals or enjoying their time together. I struggled to keep up, my feet aching every time they hit the hot asphalt. But with every hobble I saw memories of times long past.

Of my parents and siblings and I gathered at the table, sharing a meal. I felt the youth of myself once again as I reached over to grab a piece of chicken, my arm feeling the warmth of the freshly cooked rice. I saw my parents watching all of us, making sure our plates were full, my brother and sister, laughing at a joke only they could understand.

Of my friends, gathered around small TVs and game controllers in our hands. Our words were incoherent, but I could understand what was being said, the excitement that charged the words. All of us, calmly watching and waiting, an energy charging the room. Then, an explosion of screams and jumping and throwing down controllers, humbled looks, joyous looks, but none disappointed or astray from the moment.

Of all of the girls that dated me, every cup of coffee we shared, every smile on our faces, every thought that had been transmitted from the heart to the mind and rationalized as logical. I saw all of them and felt my heart flutter again. 

And as I finally grasped at what each of them were, they all slipped away into the clear blue sky that the pigeon had made. I realized that I had fallen to my knees and was crying. The tears evaporated before even hitting the ground and I couldn’t stop them from falling out. I felt the pigeon waiting for me, cocking its head from side to side to get a better look at me. When there were no more tears left, I screamed and yelled and looked up to the memories one last time before they became one with the blue. Then, the pigeon stopped flapping its wings and walked over to me. It lowered itself and called me to its back.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I climbed onto it.

“To where you need to be,” the pigeon said as it flew into the sky. The air was cool and rejuvenating and was the only thing I could focus on. 

Then the pigeon dove back into a smoke cloud and landed in front of an enormous desk adorned with stacks of paper and assortments of pens and a glowing laptop screen, all of it shining in the haze. I asked him why I was taken here.

“Because it’s where you need to be. It is your home, where there will be times of discouragement and times of elation and times of everything in between, where your truth may be the most real and everything from people to animal to emotions may enter,” the pigeon said, looking proudly at the desk.

“You are as I am, as everything that exists is – an amalgamation of everything around you processed by an everlasting test of resistance, acceptance, compromise, and adaptation. If you don’t understand now, then perhaps you can find meaning in it at your home,” the pigeon said. I felt its words wrap around me, though I wasn’t sure if it was comfortable or terrifying. But sure enough, the pigeon turned to me one last time and gave a soft coo before flying away.

I watched it grow smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared, then I walked to the desk and sat down, distracted by a clean feeling that I had forgotten existed.