that evening, while i was reading bedtime stories to my two little cousins, the goose flew away. it was clumsy, slow, just a teenager and still learning how to use those wings that stretched nearly four feet across. james followed it to the lumberyard, where it had built up enough loft to land on the peak of the warehouse roof. it readjusted its feathers, and then took flight again, off into the distance. when james announced the goose's departure, it flew away he said, i was slightly sad but mostly relieved. it's what i expected. because a wild animal isn't called wild for no reason.
the next morning, we all were waking up and having our coffees and teas when we saw our neighbor chris and his baby boy walking down the empty street across town. following close behind him, straight down that yellow line, was the goose. we were all overjoyed! the kids ran to catch up, so did james, he called out to the goose, gooser! the goose responded with a familiar honk, and increased its gate. we all walked together to our backyard, the goose entered as if it knew right where it was headed. it quickly resumed eating feed, drank some water, bedded down, and took a nap in the sunny grass. that afternoon, after everyone else left, i took a nap too, in the backyard, all of us sleeping in the summer sun, the two cats, the two ducks, us plus the grey goose with the white eyelids, its black beak tucked neatly in its wing feathers, all of us purring lightly, cozy, every now and again cracking my eyes to see that the goose was still there.