When I was seven I remember waking up on an ordinary day, the sky was a light grey color like the ashes after a fire. The smell of fresh air and rain was coming in through the open window threatening a storm. As I slowly got ready for the day. I had decided to go for a quick walk around the yard to go collect marigold seeds from the yellow and red flowers out front for next spring. Then suddenly, I noticed from the window something moving around outside. From my room I couldn't tell what it was but as I walked outside I realized it was a small bird with brown and white feathers. Looking at the fact that she wasn't flying away when I approached her, I guessed that she had a broken wing. I felt sorry for her, she wasn't able to protect herself in any way, I had always been envious of a bird ability to fly but that very ability had been taken away from her and that's what I found most depressing of all. being seven, it was hard not to feel sad over a thing adults would find so silly. The second thing I did after I approached her was run to the garage and get two small bowls out for her. One for bird seeds, and one for water. then I walked back to the backyard to give her the food. When I approached her the second time she hopped away from me so I layed the food near her on a rock. For the first time I realized why she didn’t fly away from me the first time, She was very sick and half starved. her feathers were mostly fallen out and the ones left were stained with dirt and grime. She was extremely skinny and sickly looking, and she seemed to have less energy than I would have expected out of a young bird. At that point I felt more sorry for her then ever. She was obviously in pain and hadn't eaten in days. I didn't want to look at her another second, I ran back into the house without a second thought and without telling my parents about the bird. That night there was a storm, a hurricane more like. As the rain beat down on the roof of my house and thunder and lightning crackled in the distance, all I could think about was the bird and what was happening to her. I couldn't sleep that night . I just sat awake all night with the guilt of not doing more to help. The next day I found the bird dead near the two bowls. I felt guilty at not doing more to help but I knew somehow that there was nothing I could do. I learned that somethings are out of my hands and that not everything is in my control. I eventually forgave myself for running away when I saw the sick bird I but vowed never to run away from something because I was afraid again.