Trina Horne

———————————————————————————————————————

suit, which he chose from a Goodwill box in the more
sophisticated part of town, and off to the bank he'd go,
deposit his hard-earned coins, and start all over. Even the
children of the community gave him their spare change;
and when they needed change themselves, George
would return the favor.

Over the years, George’s bank account grew larger
and larger. He never spent a penny of it on himself, other
than to buy his gallon of wine once or twice a week. He
arranged to have his savings split among his three chil-
dren after his passing. Knowing that they would be all
right, George decided he would follow his lifelong
dream: he would return to the river where he’d seen all
those beautiful eagles. The time was right, and George
was happy that he would be able to relive a day in his
past that had given him his dream.

When he finally arrived at the river, it was as if he
had never left. He sat on the riverbank with his wine
beside him, and talked to the eagles as if they were his
friends. And they squawked right back at him as though
he understood everything they were squawking about.

Human society came to the conclusion that George
had died from alcoholism. Truth was, George hadn’t died
at all: his spirit had left the human body and had entered
the eagle he had become closest to.

187