by Sandra Elizabeth

Created on: April 15, 2009

Her bird, now dead in its cage, was her friend. She bought him in the Spring of last year and though just a year had passed by since then, it did not make his death hurt less. She had spent each day with him since and she was so sad. He must have died last night, when she was out. She wished she had not gone, but one wish does not a change make.

She thought of the day she had met him. He was way in the back of the store and she had to pass by a rat to get to him. She thought his beak was cool, that is why she bought him. See, this bird had an odd beak that, when viewed at just the right slant, shined when a ray of sun light hit it. The glare had hit her face as soon as she came in the pet store. It was bright, like the sun. She sought out a clerk, who sold her some food and toys to go with the bird and then right there and then she named him Ray.

Ray was a good bird. He brought light to her life. He did not talk, but he sure did chirp a lot. (He liked to sit on his perch and bob his head back and forth while he chirped.) She thought this was cute and made up a song to go with his sways. "Ray, Ray, why do you sway that way all day?" The more she sang the more he swayed. He liked her song; she just knew it. She had a bond with that bird; "a bird bond", she thought; and that made her smile.

Once in a while, she would take him out of his cage and let him fly free, but just in the hall and just for a while. She would have let him spend more time out of his cage, but she did not want bird poop all over the house. Ray did not seem to mind it much when he got back to his cage. Most times, he would just fly in there on his own. I told you he was a good bird.

At night, she would cup him in her hands and sit on the couch with him. She would turn on some prime time show, wrap up in her quilt and watch it ...with Ray. She had made him his own bit of a quilt once, but he did not want it. (I guess you just should not cloak a bird, if you do not want your hand pecked.)

She looked down at her hand now and saw the small scars left by Ray's pecks. She thought of a time she had tried to heal them. Now, she hoped that they would not fade for a long, long time (if at all). She reached her scarred hand in to pick him up, so she could give him a good send off. After she placed him in her best gift box, she fixed the bit of quilt she had made for him so that he could rest his head on it. She said, "Rest Ray. Rest in peace". Then she sang their song and dug a hole out back, near the rose bush. Ray would have liked that.

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