It all began in the bustling center of Barranquilla. The sound of engines, the overlapping voices of street vendors, and the usual city heat were nothing new… but that day, in the middle of all that chaos, I heard a very soft chirp. It was like a whisper among the concrete. I got closer, and there she was. A little parrot with the saddest eyes I had ever seen.
She couldn’t fly. She could barely move. I was told she had been drugged so she wouldn’t escape. That way, she’d be easier to sell. And right then, I knew I had to do something. So I bought her—not to keep her, but to set her free.
I took her home and named her Anahi. The first few days were hard. She didn’t sing, didn’t fly, didn’t look at me. She barely breathed. But I knew she just needed time, kindness, and freedom.
I offered her fresh fruit, an open window, and my words. She began to move her wings—at first, timidly, like a memory of something she had forgotten. Slowly, as if remembering what it meant to be a bird, she stretched her wings in search of freedom.
Watching her regain her joy was a gift I never asked for, but one life gave me. One day, without warning, she flew inside the house. Not far—just a few meters. But it was enough for my heart to know: she was ready.
The first time I saw her fly was so inspiring, so meaningful, that I understood it was time to let her go. Anahi didn’t need me anymore—or rather, she didn’t need to be confined.
I took her to the Botanical Garden of Barranquilla, a place filled with tall trees and the murmurs of other birds. I opened the cage. She hesitated. She looked at me. Then she took flight. She rose among the branches and disappeared among the songs. Hearing the birds sing in the distance… I knew my little Anahi deserved the same. And she had found it.
That day, in the middle of a mix of sadness, pride, and something I still don’t know how to name, I understood that there is always hope. That even the most fragile can heal. And that being part of that process is one of the most beautiful gifts life can offer.
Anahi is no longer with me, but her flight stays with me.
Joy in knowing I was part of her journey.
There is always hope.