Letter 11 – The Blackbird and the Ball

Dear Grandad,

Can I tell you a secret?

Something amazing just happened – so amazing that I have come straight in from outside to tell you about it: Annie got her ball back!

Obviously that’s good news, but that’s not the amazing part. The amazing part is HOW she got it back, well actually how it came back, because that’s what happened. It came back without Mum or Dad or anyone else getting it.

I was out in the garden on my own. Annie was inside playing a game with Dad, Mum was getting the tea ready and I was bored so I went outside and just sat on the bench. It was quite a nice day, no breeze and with just a few fluffy white clouds so the sun was up there shining away. From where I was sitting the sun was up behind the tree that Annie’s ball was stuck in and so when I looked up that way, all squinty and screwing my eyes up so that I wasn’t blinded, to feel the sun on my cheeks, I could see the ball sitting there minding its own business. I was actually thinking to myself that the ball was stuck there for good and that there was NO WAY that ball was coming down from there anytime soon. Anyway, who do you think hopped into view, only that cheeky blackbird I told you about, the one with the funny hairstyle? I sat watching him for a while and, do you know what, I had the distinct impression that he was doing just the same to me, looking down and watching me. Every now and then I turned my head to look up at the ball, like I was checking it was still there (but that ball was going nowhere) and each time I did that, he turned and looked the same way. Back my gaze would go to the Blackbird and there he was looking at me again. Blackbird, football, football, Blackbird – me, football, football me. But he was sneaky. Obviously when I was looking at the football I wasn’t looking at the Blackbird so I couldn’t be sure that he was too, so I would wiggle my eyes around to try to trick him and then really quickly look his way to see if I could catch him looking at the ball but he was always too quick for me. He was always looking down at me. But I know he was looking at the ball. And anyway, what happened next proves it.

I had to go inside for a few moments – Mum called me in to see if I wanted rice or pasta with the tea – and when I came out, I sat down again, looked up in the tree and just as I did so the Blackbird reappeared on the same branch he was on before, looking down at me just like before. I thought I’d play the same game as before to see if he was still following me so I turned to look at the ball again, BUT IT WAS GONE!!! IM-POSS-IBLE. If it wasn’t in the tree, where was it? I looked down to the ground below and there it was, nestled on a small plant looking almost like a piece of cake sitting on the middle of a plate. I screwed my eyes shut and gave my head a good shake to check that I wasn’t going loopy and then opened just my left eye a little to take a peek. It was still there. I opened both eyes fully, looked up to where the ball had been in the tree, down to the ball on the ground, up again, down again, up again, down again. It was like some magic had happened. Then I looked back at the Blackbird and he was just sitting there, still looking down on me but now really looking right at me. Sometimes birds will do this thing where they seem to stretch their heads right forwards like they are peering into the distance and this was what he was doing, but peering straight at me. Straight into me really. Straight into my eyes, through my eyes and right into the squidginess inside me. Right into my brain. Right into my thoughts. Then bold as anything he cocked his head over to one side, winked right at me with his lovely shiny eye, sang a few lovely trills and flew off. If that isn’t amazing then nothing ever will be.

I picked up the ball and, surprisingly, it seemed perfectly fine and still pumped up. I ran inside with it into the room where Annie and Dad were playing their game, stopping on the way to hide the ball behind my back, and said “Hey, hotshot, guess what I’ve got?” before pulling the ball out from behind me. Annie was ever so pleased but I am not sure Dad was because I don’t think they ever finished the game and he doesn’t like not winning. I came straight up here to my bedroom to write this letter because I just knew you would love to hear about this. It’s a crazy idea, but that Blackbird looked right inside me, like he was looking over me, talking to me and now I think I know something about him that no-one else can ever know. I feel that you will know exactly what I mean 😉

Kate

P.S. No-one else knows about this, not Annie or Dad or Mum. It can be our secret.


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