Porcelain Birds Can’t Be Broken

Posted by Sharon Blumberg in HandPrints Stories & Videos | 3 comments

© Sharon O. Blumberg

As a child, I admired my neighbor’s birdbath, adorned with two brightly-colored, porcelain birds. Outside playing with friends, I would eye the red porcelain one resting upon its white platform. I adored watching Mrs. Vitriola tend to her birdbath; she had the sweetest disposition.

But my curiosity overcame me. One morning I ventured onto my neighbor’s lawn to get a closer look at the porcelain birds, but impulse trumped my better judgment. Unclamping the fragile treasure, I carried it back to my front yard. As I sauntered back, my neighbor tapped firmly on her front window.

My heart pounding like a beating drum, I hid behind the proud evergreen that claimed a corner of our front yard. Lacking the nerve to walk back and return it, I did something far more foolish: I threw the stolen bird back onto my neighbor’s lawn. To my horror, it didn’t clear her concrete driveway, and smashed into a thousand tiny red pieces. Its shattering resounded in my head; guilt echoed in my heart.

Anticipating Mrs.Vitriola’s fury, I awaited the dreaded phone call to my parents. Worse, I was terrified that she might appear at our front door in an outrage. But she never phoned, and never appeared to divulge my sinister deed. Spying from an upstairs window, I wondered what she thought about me.

That afternoon I watched her clean up the mess that I’d created. I had not meant to steal the bird. I’d suffered from a bad case of poor judgment. Weeks passed, but my shame increased. I wished that she would simply scream at me, so that it could be over and done with. Instead, I faced the daily reminder of my crime each time I saw the single, lonely bird that remained.

One sultry afternoon while waiting on my front lawn for a friend, I noticed Mrs. Vitriola watering her garden. To my amazement she smiled warmly, waving for me to come over. She asked, “How are you Sharon?”

“I’m OK, I guess, Mrs. Vitriola. I don’t know what to say about, well ya know uhhhh, don’t ya?”

Mrs. Vitriola replied, “Well, I think I do Sharon. Why did you do it?”
I stood, transfixed, staring at the ground, with dry mouth and sweaty brow. The moment felt like an eternity. “I don’t really know,” I answered, awkwardly scratching my head.

“Well, I trust that in time you will do the right thing. I know that you are a caring and intelligent person,” replied Mrs. Vitriola. Then she bid me good-bye and walked away, leaving me with my thoughts, midst her well-tended rose bushes.

Weeks later, I finally absolved myself by telling my mother what I’d done. I couldn’t stand myself in the mirror anymore. Keeping my secret made me feel physically sick. “I wanted to tell you, Mom, but I couldn’t talk about it before. Can we buy Mrs.Vitriola a new porcelain bird for her birdbath?” I asked.

With that, my mother almost shouted, “Sharon, of course we have to replace it! I wish you might have told me sooner, but I’m glad that you did tell me. What were you thinking? That’s it; you weren’t thinking! We’ll go to the hardware store to pick out another bird right away, and then you’ll present it to her and apologize.”
I knew it was the right thing to do, but I was fearful as we knocked on Mrs. Vitriola’s door. She gasped with joy as I held out a yellow porcelain bird and placed it into her hands.

“Thank you so much, Sharon. This must have been hard for you, but I knew you would do the right thing.”

But, I thought to myself, “No, I know how hard this has been for you.” She could have screamed. Instead, Mrs. Vitriola left me to sort things out for myself in my own time; a far greater punishment.

Mrs. Vitriola, her blue eyes welling with tears, smiled warmly as she cupped that little porcelain bird in her hands. I recall her gentle touch as she took my hand and exclaimed, “Come on! Let’s put our bird back on together.” Handing me the long, green hose, she gave me the honor of filling the birdbath. The water rose, washing away my shame.

Because my neighbor was patient and understanding, I learned to think responsibly. In my teaching career and in my own parenting, I hope to model her integrity for the young people I come in contact with every day.