One rainy morning, as I opened the balcony window to let in the breeze, a quiet scene made me stop in awe.
Inside an empty flower pot at the corner of the railing, a mother pigeon lay still, covering a few bits of grass and twigs, as if preparing to build her nest.
She looked fragile, her eyes half-closed — perhaps pregnant and searching for a safe place to give birth.
I stood there silently, my heart filled with tender sympathy.
Not wanting her to get wet or cold, I gently moved her nest to a warmer, sheltered corner, away from the wind.
The mother bird seemed weak, so each day I brought her some grains and fresh water, hoping to give her the strength she needed.
A few days later, a small miracle happened — two white eggs appeared, and soon two tiny, adorable hatchlings emerged.
I watched in awe as the mother bird spread her wings to warm them, feeding them with such care and devotion.
Her love for her babies moved me deeply — a pure and powerful bond of motherhood.
As time passed, the little family became familiar with me, no longer afraid.
Each morning, when I stepped out to the balcony, they chirped softly, as if greeting an old friend.
I came to see them as part of my family — tiny lives that had chosen my home as their haven.
And so, we lived peacefully together under the same roof, where love quietly fluttered through the air with every beat of their wings. 🕊️💛
“In the first rain of the season, a tiny life found its home — and my heart found its peace“
