Angela was amazing. An angel even before her time. It was in her nature and in her name. A woman with a heart so pure. Definition of do anything for anyone. So intelligent. So talented. So nurturing. She has the ability to make any house feel like a home, and she had many. Now, more than ever, she is constantly on the move.
A different home every day. Whether it’s in Speke or Woolton, she opens her wings to her fellow red-breasted friends and shelters them from the cold. Though each one is different they all feel the same. All built from wood. All have many floors and corridors. All old of age with foundations buried deep. Some have green drapes but they come down with the change of seasons and are replaced by a fresher shade. If they don’t come furnished with berries she hops, soars and jumps in search for a nutritious meal for her welcomed guests.
Today Angela settles opposite the Sheppard-Warlock library. She sings her song from the attic then hops down the stairs and pops her beak out the open door. She sings and dances her birthday wishes amongst the discarded drapes scattered in her front garden.
I can’t go inside but I chat over the yellow fence. As I leave, more friends appear to join in Angela’s song and help her prepare for her next big move.
See ya later Ange.