In the heart of a lush, green forest, high up in the canopy, lived a family of parrots. All the young birds were soft shades of grey, blending in with the world around them. All except one. His feathers were a riot of colours: brilliant emerald, bright gold, and a splash of scarlet across his wings. He was unlike any of his siblings, and because of that, he often felt out of place.
The other young parrots teased him endlessly. “Why are you so bright?” they’d chirp, flapping their grey wings in unison. “Do you think you’re special or something?”
But the little parrot didn’t feel special. In fact, he felt very much alone. What had he not done trying to fit in: he would even hide in the shadows in tries to fade his colours, but no matter how hard he tried and what he did, he couldn’t change his feathers. And the more they teased, the quieter he became.
As the seasons passed, the young parrot grew into his teen years, his loneliness growing with him. His siblings always flew through the trees in flocks, sticking together while he would trail behind, slowly, sadly. And just when he thought things couldn’t get more heartbreaking, his birthday arrived – There was no one to celebrate it with him, so alone he sat on a high branch and gazed at the big blue above; he longed for something, something couldn’t quite name.
That was when he saw it: a flash of colour streaking through the sky. His heart leapt; it was a large bird, a parrot, most probably, and IT WAS EVEN MORE COLOURFUL THAN HE WAS! Its wings were glinting in the sun as it soared gracefully and effortlessly, and even better, without any hit of shame or awkwardness.
So, without any second thoughts, he spread his wings and flew after it. He darted through the trees with an excitement he had never felt before, trying hard to keep up; the larger bird flew with purpose, and he followed it for what felt like hours, going farther and farther than he had ever ventured before. As he flew, he saw the forest begin to thin, and soon, he found himself gliding over a village, where the air smelled of cooking fires and flowers, and he could see huts and cottages below.
After some time, the large parrot swooped down toward a house at the edge of the village, and the little parrot followed. But when the colourful bird fluttered onto the windowsill of a small home, the little parrot landed on a low branch nearby. He watched the woman standing inside, humming softly to herself while washing dishes.
Suddenly, she looked up, and her eyes widened and glittered when she saw the parrot at her window. “There you are!” her voice was full of warmth and recognition. Then she opened the window, and the parrot hopped inside, sitting on the woman’s arm and rubbing its head affectionately against her face.
The little parrot felt a pang in his chest; it was a strange feeling he couldn’t quite name. Nevertheless, he kept watching, a bit enviously now, wondering what it must feel like to be so loved, wanted, cared for. He had tears in his eyes… But before he could fly away, the woman’s eyes flickered toward him. She paused, looking at him curiously, and then—almost hesitantly—stepped out of the house and onto the porch.
“Hey, little parrot,” she murmured her voice barely a breath. She approached him carefully, her eyes filled with something he couldn’t comprehend. “You look just like him…”
The little parrot tilted his head, unsure of what she meant.
She reached out a hand, not to grab, but to gently coax him closer. “You… you look just like my baby parrot did,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “Years ago, when he was just a chick, he disappeared. We searched everywhere, but… we never found him.” Her hand hovered near him, and to his surprise, he didn’t pull away.
“You’re all grown up now, aren’t you?” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “But you still have the same colours, the same bright, beautiful feathers.” She looked over her shoulder at the parrot inside the house. “I always thought I’d lost you forever, but here you are.”
It dawned on the little parrot that this woman believed he was her lost parrot, the baby she had once cared for. Could it be true? Could he really have belonged somewhere all along?
He didn’t know what to think, but the woman’s voice was so full of love, so filled with the hope of reunion, that he allowed her to pick him up, her hands warm and gentle. She carried him inside, where the other parrot—the one he had followed—fluttered over to him, nuzzling him as if they had known each other all their lives.
“See,” she smiled, her eyes glistening. “You’re home now.”
The little parrot blinked, confused and overwhelmed, but there was something about this place, about the woman and the large parrot, that felt… right. It wasn’t that he suddenly knew for sure where he came from, but the ache of loneliness he’d felt for so long began to lift.
The days that followed were filled with warmth and kindness. The woman cared for him, speaking to him with the same tenderness she showed her other parrot, feeding him, and singing to him as he perched on her shoulder. And the large parrot, whom the woman called Luna, never left his side. Luna seemed to understand his quietness and uncertainty, but slowly, through their time together, he began to feel at ease.
For the first time in his life, the little parrot felt like he belonged and was loved. No longer having to worry about his bright feathers or how different he looked, he was surrounded by those who cared for him in this small house at the edge of the village; his colours no longer set him apart; they made him cherished. He realized that it wasn’t about being the same as others—it was about being with those who saw him for who he truly was.
And so, the little parrot, who had once flown alone, now flew with his new family, his heart light and full. He had found his way home—not just to a place, but to the people who loved him as he was.
