Vagabond At Heart

I used to have one when I was in Primary 1 (I think). It flew into my grandparents’ room one afternoon. I could still remember the excitment it caused. My dad and grandparents ran around the room chasing after it. We were all very excited when they finally caught it.

My grandfather used to keep another bird which was larger and brown. I forgot which species it was. The parrot was housed in another tiny little cage beside the brown bird. They were both kept in my room since it had the best lighting in the house.

I loved my new little friend with its bright feather. I fed it water and some bird seeds. My dad told me it was a parrot and I spent hours chattering to it, hoping that someday, it would talk to me too.

After a few months, the adults decided, due to some religious belief, that letting go of the birds was a good deed. My parents had to take quite a while to convince me to agree to give up my little friend. 

On that day, my dad drove us somewhere far and I said good-bye to my little friend and we opened the door of the bird cage. A few hops, a few inquiring glances and my little friend was gone. I think that was my first lesson in letting go.

I was sad for a while but being a kid, I had the tendency to forget easily. Before long, I was happily engaged in life and barely thought of my little friend again. It was another piece of memory that was forgotten until recently when I saw these 3 little fellows at a farm. I suddenly remember my first and only childhood pet.