step into the sun ☼ deh

vii

chapter seven
feed the birds
zoe pov

trigger warnings: none

Sometimes, whenever I didn't have any poems or articles to work on, I would watch dance videos. I was never exactly a dancer as a child or anything. I watched them all the time, imagining that Mia was performing in them.

Though I've never officially met Mia, I've always felt close with the young girl. Though I kind of wanted to meet her, I was always too afraid, I was almost 100% sure she hated me. I mean, after everything that's happened she can't not hate me.

I've seen Mia dance, once, but she quit after I saw her. She was an amazing dancer, and I was so proud of her, in that moment. I was kind of upset, when I found out that was the last time that she would be dancing. Therefore, whenever I watched a dance video, I always imagined it as Mia. I always regretted only seeing Mia dance once, and that was two years ago.

I still remember, before Mia's recital, I bought her a necklace with a little silver star on it. I kind of wanted to give it to her, personally, but I chickened out, and I didn't want her to be freaked out. Instead of giving her the necklace at the recital, I snuck it to Evan, and he saved it for her sixteenth birthday.

I regretted not being there for Mia, the most. I wish I was just there more often. I wish I could have supported her better. I wished that everything was different. I could've been better for Mia, but I wasn't. I haven't even talked to her, since she was just one year old. One of my favorite pictures of us is the one that Evan took of us, right after my graduation. I was still in my cap and gown, holding a little Mia. I had it framed, and I had put it on my dresser in my bedroom. It reminds me to be there for the people I love, and it also reminds me-or makes me hope-that I made the best decision for Mia, and I had her live with Evan.

From everything that Evan has told me, Mia is a really awesome young woman. She gets good grades, and she wants to be a writer, like me. I mean, Mia wants to write fiction, rather than go into journalism and/or poetry, but still, I was pretty honored by that (even though she had no idea that I was a writer, but I mean, it was still pretty cool). Mia also wears the little star necklace everyday, and I felt almost connected to her. Like, it feels like I'm with her, and she doesn't even know it. It was a bittersweet thought, but I mean, whenever I thought about Mia, it was bittersweet.

I got my pen out, and wrote something down in my little poetry notebook.

i once had a bird. the bird was small, and it needed help. i could not help the bird.

i let go of the bird.

the bird got what it needed. the bird had long forgotten about me. the bird is flying.

i am not ready to let go of the bird.

It was a work in progress, but I wanted to keep that poem in my notebook, just in case. I figured that I would use it in a future project, if there was a future project (my publishers were still looking the first book over, at the time). I even thought about writing a whole poetry book about "the bird", but I wasn't sure. I guess I would make it into a mini-story/poetry book? As I thought about the idea more and more, I started to like it a lot. I quickly grabbed an empty notebook that I had laying around. I labeled the front "the bird" in some hand-lettering stuff that I used to be obsessed with doing, and I wrote down the first poem. I closed the notebook and grabbed a Post-It Note, and scribbled something down.

Poem Book/Mini-Story about Mia (the small bird)

I slapped the Post-It Note into the inside cover of the notebook. I was always afraid of forgetting my metaphors, so I wanted to make sure I had it written down. Inevitable, I started to mindlessly doodle stars and planets on the front of the notebook. It obviously, didn't have anything to do with the bird metaphor... I just had a habit of drawing the solar system onto anything that I can really draw on-paper, notebook covers, books, sometimes even clothes (my jeans have suffered the damage the most). When I kind of realized what I was doing, I opened the notebook and I started to write a little more.

i used to be afraid of the bird.

it might've been the feathers, or its small eyes

or maybe the commitment the bird took

was what made me afraid

☼☼☼

mia pov

I hadn't researched The Connor Project in about a week or two. There wasn't a lot of new news from Chris' blog. Most people had commented that they were doing research, but they had all found most of the same stuff we had. No videos, no website. Just articles that proved its existence. Although I would love to spend all of my free time researching the Connor Project, deleted websites were pretty hard to find. I still Googled The Connor Project every once in a while. Sometimes, I even decided to be gutsy, and look it up when my father was still in the same room. I don't really know if he noticed or not, but I didn't really care. Maybe if he saw that I was researching The Connor Project, he would be more open and tell me what happened.

When I did the math, The Connor Project was going on around the time of my father's senior year, and this wasn't really the time when I was born, despite what my freshman-self thought. I still don't now what bad choices he made during his senior year. I mean, he was busy running The Connor Project, wasn't he? I don't know if it really had to do with The Connor Project or not. Whatever it was, I hope that it wasn't too bad.