Day 74: 20 January 2026

 Short Story -- Coming Home

There’s a solitary bright iridescent blue and green and black bird sitting on a branch watching the sun rise over the mountains.

She’s had a long night flying more miles than she can count across winter skies in the Northern hemisphere. But now she’s home: a tree nestled at the edge of the forest in sight of the Andes.

She is not resting far from her nest, a dense cup like structure.

And she sighs contentedly as the sun rises.

‘You’re home,’ a welcoming voice says startling her.

She turns to look and smiles warmly at her partner.

‘Pampero,’ she greets him. ‘Yes, I am home.’

‘It was a long night for you. You must be tired, Aurora.’

She hops closer to him. Nestling into his feathers.

‘Yes,’ she cedes. ‘Nights like last night are long. But they don’t come often. And they remind me even more of what a beautiful world we live in.’

He hmmms in agreement and contentment that his partner is home and next to him. ‘Tell me about all of the wonders you witnessed, mi amor.’ He too had witnessed the Earth’s beauty, but not as far North as Aurora. And he liked listening to his wife’s tales and see her eyes filled with wonder.

And so she began: ‘I passed over the waterfalls of Iceland and heard their rushing waters and gurgling streams. I rushed above the fjords of Norway with their crystal blue water and high sided mountains topped with snow. And I crossed over the snow encrusted forests of Lapland.’

Her eyes were bright recalling all of the natural beauty she had seen.

‘They sound marvelous, mi amor,’ Pampero said. ‘Perhaps one day soon we will visit these places together.’

She smiled affectionately at him. ‘Perhaps, indeed.’

And they both hopped over to the nest. Aurora went to sleep almost as soon as she settled; Pampero stood guard.