Dearest Tesande

My mother always told me to be myself, to not let the opinions of others bother me that I am special just the way I am. This is something I took seriously. I tend to come off as dense I’m guessing due to my overly enthusiastic attitude and energetic nature. Even when I first arrived in this new and strange land after drifting around aimlessly on the everlasting air currents in the vast skies. This didn’t dampen my mood in the least bit, if anything the chance to rest and eat in this magnificent territory lifted my spirit and I found myself skipping through the trees whilst singing a jolly tune to myself.

”What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor,
Earl-eye in the morning!

Swinging my head back and forth I filled the trees with my tune, hardly caring who heard it and what they thought of it. I was use to getting odd stares, I seemed oblivious that I was annoying anyone but truthfully I just didn't care.

Shave his belly with a rusty razor,
Shave his belly with a rusty razor,
Shave his belly with a rusty razor,
Earl-eye in the morning!” I moved with springs in my feet, a bounce in my step. Picking my feet up high, I skipped through the trees my wings hanging open in a lazy shrug on my shoulders. I smiled as I looked to the trees lingering over me, I considered the possible difficulty of take off again but it’s not like I wanted to anyways. After my long and perilous journey (Yes, the journey here was perilous) this welcomed stop gave me a chance to rest my wings and free my feathers from the lingering sea salt that clung to me like a bad stink.
Not that I was bothered by any of this of course, in fact my thoughts tracing me back to the flight over the great blue resulted in louder singing to shove away any negative attitude.

”Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Earl-eye in the morning!” I found myself soon rearing up and spinning a tip-toed dance on my hind legs, which was much easier with the aid of wings to help me balance. See, now this was something my father never really approved of. How that malicious old stiff ended up with a gentle soul like my mother was beyond me, but it was always behavior like this he discouraged. And he often addressed me about it with lectures of how ridiculous I look paired with a side of ”you’ll never have any friends”. But I tune out his degrading words like singing birds tune out the grumpy morning riser. I couldn’t really consider myself as stupid as my father tried to imply I was, after all I seem to have overcome my life’s complications skipping and singing as I always do. And on my trek I went now bobbing my head and kicking out my front feet as I walked, allowing my song and mood to progress in a steady fluid course.

”What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor,
Earl-eye in the morning!”