Kayla's Songbird

“Just get in the car, girls,” Mom says, exasperated.

This is the last family Christmas before I start college in the fall, and I’ve already made it clear that I won’t be flying back for the holidays. Every Christmas, it’s the same thing. Sit around and wait for my younger sister, Ashlyn, to wake up, and when she does, stay out of her way because she will be angry.

Opening presents at home is usually uneventful, but this year, there’s extra angst from Ashlyn. Mom and Dad have been going on and on about a special family present from Grandpa, the only family member remaining on my father’s side. Dad had been telling us all year that Grandpa would be choosing one of us for this special gift, and it looked like it would be me.

Smashing myself into the back seat of Mom’s hatchback with Ashlyn and our dogs, I sat wondering what this notorious gift might be. Was it my grandmother’s wedding ring? An heirloom jewel of sorts? Whatever it was, I hope it wasn’t too outlandish. After all, I did have to survive a few more months in a house with Ashlyn, who was now side-eying me.

The ride is pleasant enough, Christmas music plays in the background as we all quietly tinker with new Christmas gadgets. I’m reading on my new tablet when Dad looks in the rearview mirror at me.

“Getting excited, kiddo?” he asks.

“Sure, Dad. I’m more excited to just see Grandpa.” Ashlyn scoffs next to me, I don’t have to look at her to hear her eyes roll.

Dad chuckles, he understands the dynamic between his two daughters. Ashlyn and I are four years apart in age, it won’t be significant when we’re older, but right now it feels like a lifetime.

I watch out the window as we roll around a familiar bend, there will be a waterfall up on the left, then the road forks and we will take the path that is carved through the mountain. I had to admit, this is something I would miss next year when I head to school.

Dad takes the curve a little harsh, causing me to slide into Ashlyn. The dogs shift in their seats, they’re anxious to get out and run.

“Sorry, girls!” Dad says with a laugh, Mom shakes her head in the seat next to him. “Almost there, now.”

We slowly pull up to Grandpa’s house, a small cottage that feels so familiar to me. Ashlyn and I had spent the summers with Grandma and Grandpa when we were younger. The fairy garden we made years ago still stood under the large magnolia tree, now featuring some new additions from Grandpa. I hadn’t been to the house since Grandma died a few years ago, I was 15.

Grandpa is waiting on the front porch for us, he slowly rises as the car stops, waving both his arms over his head.

“Helloooooooooo…oooooo…oooooo,” he cries, mimicking an echo. Ashlyn cracks a smile, the first of the day.

“Hi, Grandpa!” We say in unison. Mom and Dad are busy leashing up the dogs and unpacking Christmas gifts. Ashlyn and I run to greet our grandfather before he can make the long walk down the drive.

“Oh,” he says smiling, the lines by his eyes so deep. Deeper than I remembered. “It’s been so long, I’m so excited to see you girls! Let’s head inside before someone asks for help,” he says, nodding his head towards my parents with a wink.

We stand on either side of him and make our way towards the small home. I’m anxious to step inside, wondering how it will feel without Grandma. The shadow of the porch swallows us, the lattice that once cascaded beautiful light patterns across the deck is now consumed by vines of ivy. I can sense that Ashlyn is having the same doubts as I.

Grandpa reaches forward and grasps the door handle, swinging it open effortlessly.

“After you, ladies,” he says.

We step inside, the home that I spent much of my life in no longer exists. Books and paper clippings fill the front room. The living room is unrecognizable, only one piece of furniture remains- Grandma’s chair.

“Now, I know it’s a little messy. I see you looking around, but don’t you worry. You’ll soon see what I’ve been working on.” Grandpa speaks up from behind us.

The house had always been a bit quaint, I could never describe it as organized. We always joked about having hippies as grandparents. Grandma had a large garden in the back yard and grew all their produce. Chickens could be easily found pecking around the grounds, Grandma and Grandpa had been vegetarians since Dad was a kid.

“We don’t eat what we love!” Grandma would tell me when I asked if she missed burgers. Dad had started eating meat when he went away to college and was always quick to stop for fast food on the way home from a visit.

The olive green walls, which once felt warm, now felt dingy and dark. There were water stains in the corners of the ceilings.

“Once I give Kayla her gift, I’ll have more time to get this place cleaned up. You know Grandma was the one who kept it together.” He says while making his way from the room.

I feel bad for our reactions, it’s clear that Grandpa is ashamed of the state of the house. But what does he mean once he gives me my gift? What was he working on that takes up so much time?

“I bet it’s Grandma’s Buick,” Ashlyn leans over and whispers, she’s wondering the same thing I am.

“Maybe, but Grandpa’s never been one to work on cars,” I shrug back.

A car would make the most sense. In about five months, I’ll be moving across the country. A car would be immense help. My mind wanders, imagining all the adventures I can take once I have my own transportation.

Mom and Dad finally make it inside, the dogs thump down the hall.

“Welcome, you two!” Grandpa shouts from another room. “I’m just grabbing some chairs, make yourselves at home!”

Mom and Dad don’t seem phased at the condition of the cottage.

“Dad,” Ashlyn whispers, “We’re worried about Grandpa.”

Dad laughs. “Don’t worry, it looks worse than it is. You’ll understand in a bit.”

Ashlyn shoots me a puzzled look, I raise my eyebrows back at her.

“Kayla, honey, can you go get the dogs please? I don’t want them tearing anything up,” Mom asks.

I nod my head and make my way down the hall. The air smells mustier here, not like mold, almost like ash. There are piles of black dust along the floorboards. I find a trail of dark footprints and follow them into Grandpa’s room, where I find the dogs curled up on the bed.

“Come on, guys,” I smile to them “Let’s go get some bones!”

They perk up and bound down the hall. I use this opportunity to check out the bedroom, it seems to be in okay shape. The bed is made, and clean besides the dusty paw prints.

Maybe Grandpa is okay, maybe he’s just been busy like he says.

Chatter and laughter fill the living room when I make my way back. There’s an empty folding chair for me, Grandpa is seated in Grandma’s chair.

“Sorry about the furniture, Bug,” he says. “I had to put the good stuff in storage so I wouldn’t mess it up too bad!” He lets out a hearty chuckle. Dad laughs along with him, Mom smiles at me.

“No problem,” I say, heading towards my seat.

“Well, why don’t you come with me?” Grandpa insists before I have a chance to sit down. “Your mom and sister were so kind as to offer to cook Christmas dinner without you.”

I look up at Mom and Ashlyn, who are both giving me reassuring smiles. The approval from Ashlyn excites me, but also makes me nervous.

“Come along with me,” he says, making his way towards the back of the house. The windows on the French doors are dirty, covered in the same black colored dust that I saw in the hallway. He turns the handles and pushes both the doors open, revealing exactly what I had wanted to see.

Grandma’s Garden read a sign that Ashlyn and I had painted years ago. Stepping stones painted as rainbow ladybugs still lined the path, I had made those myself, and that’s when Grandma and Grandpa coined me “Bug”.

“It’s still here!” I exclaimed.

“You’re damned right, it is! You didn’t think I’d let your Grandma’s pride and joy go to the wayside, did you?” Grandpa asked.

I bite my lip to prevent from answering that question. Honestly, I had thought that the garden would be destroyed. But here, in front of me, stood rows of fuchsia coneflowers. Pink and blue hydrangea trembled in a breeze that I hadn’t felt earlier. Yellow daylilies seemed to glow along the path, and what looked like acres of lavender filled the horizon.

Grandpa stood beaming. The aromas of the garden felt like they were sweeping me off my feet, it was almost impossible to not visualize perfumed tufts lifting me up and carrying me away.

“Grandpa, this is like magic! I don’t remember it like this when I was a kid!”

Grandpa smiles and beckons me to follow him down the ladybug-lined path.

We come upon the chicken coops, hens scatter around, investigating us for a snack.

“Not yet, girls!” Grandpa waves them off. “Now, just up here, I have something special for you.”

A small red shed stands in front of me, I don’t remember seeing it before, but it had been about three years since we had visited the cottage.

“In here, Bug, shut the door quickly.”

The shed is dark aside from a faint glow in the corner, a large rectangular object sat covered with a canvas blanket.

“Okay, honey,” Grandpa starts. “This is a special gift. Your Grandma raised her from a chick, and I know she would want you to have her.”

He steps forward and pulls the fabric from a large cage. Inside stands a bird, with glowing orange and red feathers. Its long, scaly legs are a deep golden color. It looks up at me with piercing sapphire eyes and caws.

“Is that a chicken?” I ask, I’d never seen one that looked like this.

“No,” Grandpa says, sounding more serious than I’m used to. “This here is a phoenix, you have heard of a phoenix, yes?” he asks me.

I’m baffled, waiting for him to tell me that he’s joking. “Yes, I’ve heard of the mythological bird. What is it really?”

“It’s a phoenix! Come close, let me make sure I made the right choice,” he says.

“Right choice?” I ask. He doesn’t respond. I gingerly step towards the cage, maintaining eye contact with the strange bird. It caws again, then bobs its head.

“Yes!” Grandpa exclaims. “I knew it, Bug! I knew you were the one!”

“Grandpa, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why are you giving me a chicken?”

“Kayla, you are going to give me a heart attack. This is a phoenix. Your Grandma found an odd egg one day in one of the chicken coops and decided to hatch it. This is what hatched. Well, not this exact phoenix, but a phoenix.”

“What do you mean by “not this exact phoenix”?” I ask

“Did you see the house? The last one blew up when we lost your Grandmother, bless her. I found another egg shortly after, and I knew I had to find this poor baby a proper owner, one with a soul like your Grandma.”

“A soul like Grandma?”

“Yes, I saw the way the Earth reacted to you when you were a child. I saw the way it reacted to you now. It was the same with your Grandmother, her soul was one with the universe. Finding the phoenix was like finding the other half of her heart. The magic that surrounded that woman was something I never thought I’d experience again, yet here you are.”

“Wait, so Grandma was some kind of witch?” I ask, confused at what Grandpa is saying. I had never felt magic before, I wasn’t sure how he thought that I had the soul of a witch.

“No, no. I wouldn’t call her a witch. She was eutierric.”

“She was what?” I ask, I’d never heard that phrase in my life.

“Eutierric, or eutierria, it’s a Greek word meaning “one with the Earth”, it describes you and your Grandmother perfectly.”

I stood, pondering what was being told to me. I was, after all, moving to California to study conservation and environmental sciences. The phoenix never broke eye contact.

“Don’t be shy, Bug,” he says, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Pick her up!”

I turn slowly away from Grandpa and towards the large cage, where the phoenix is still watching me. Moving slowly so I don’t startle it, I open the cage from the top and reach down. My fingers brush feathers as a jolt of electricity runs through my body. I want to leap back in fear, but something keeps my feet planted where they are.

I reach back into the cage and wrap my hands around the bird this time, lifting it carefully. It’s looking up at me as I raise it up.

“Look at you!” Grandpa is practically jumping with glee.

I stroke the bird's feathers. As I do, it lets out an angelic chorus, music like I’d never heard before. I quickly turn and look at my grandfather.

“Did you hear that?” I ask, amazed at the melody that just played.

“No, I didn’t. I can’t. Only you can hear it. And when it’s older, you’ll be able to speak with it.”

“It can talk?” I ask.

“No,” Grandpa shakes his head. “It will be telepathic communication. You’ll be able to call on it whenever you need, whatever situation. It will understand you, and you it.”

The phoenix looks up at me and slowly blinks, seemingly understanding already what is being told to me.

“This is amazing, Grandpa. Thank you,” I say, filled with awe and gratitude. I didn’t know what else to say. Standing where I was holding this bird in my hands, I’d never felt the way I did at that moment.

“Why don’t we take it back up to the house and introduce the family?” He asks. I nod in agreeance.

I’m hit with the smell of Grandma’s recipes when we walk through the doors. Tomato pie, green bean casserole, roasted sweet potatoes, it was almost like she was with us in the kitchen.

“Let me see it!” Ashlyn exclaims, running over. I hold my hands out, showing off the beautiful bird. Her face is showing an expression I hadn’t seen in a while, happiness.

“Oh, it’s so cute!” she coos. Mom and Dad stand at a distance, arms around each other, smiling at their bonding daughters.

“Go ahead and set it down, Bug,” Grandpa says. “Let’s eat.”

Mom and Ashlyn clear the table and clean up in the kitchen after dinner. Grandpa, Dad, and I sit in the living room, watching as the dogs chase the small phoenix around, laughing when the bird spits small licks of flames when they get too rough.

“I think this is the perfect gift for Kayla to take to college with her,” Dad smiles.

“I agree,” Grandpa winks at me. “And I’m glad to finally get this place cleaned up. You’d be amazed at the damage those things do when they’re small!”

I laugh, imagining Grandpa chasing the chick around with a fire extinguisher. The phoenix stops in its tracks and bobs its head at me, confirming that the scenario I imagined was a fact.

“Is everyone ready to go?” Mom asks once the kitchen is clean. Ashlyn and I nod quietly, neither of us wanting to leave the cottage.

Mom and Dad leash up the dogs and head out to the car. Ashlyn follows behind, carrying the large technicolor afghan that Grandpa gifted her. “Grandma’s last project,” he had told her when she opened it.

I’ve got the phoenix wrapped in my arms when Grandpa pulls me aside.

“I know you’ll do good things, Kayla. And this phoenix, I hope it helps you like it helped your Grandmother. I hope it serves as a reminder to ask for help when it’s needed and to appreciate the world and everything in it.”

“Thank you, Grandpa,” I say weakly, holding back my tears.

“You’re very welcome. I love you, Bug,” He says.

“I love you, too. I’ll be home for Christmas next year.”

I turn and walk towards the car when the phoenix extends its neck and croons another beautiful song. The breeze picks up, carrying the sweet smell of the garden around me. The phoenix sings louder as I stop and take one last look at the home I spent my summers in.

“Thank you, Grandma.”