Rose-colored Glasses and the Rescue of Her Dream

~ Excerpt ~
 

Zoé Journal Notes

Mid-afternoon, January 21, 2021.

Eight years back in Ludington have been good for Megan. The shop was a total success in every way, until the COVID Pandemic struck the world. Now her life is like most of the country, subjected to mandates and closures. But one day it will fade away. At least she hopes so?

 

At 78 years of age, she is working on the seventh book notes. It is mid-afternoon, a frigid January day in Michigan. But today, all day long, her spirit had been troubled, and no matter what she tried, it wan no less moody. Finally, at evening, the frustration caught up with her to the point of pouring a glass of blackberry Mist wine, the only kind she could manage to enjoy, she was not a wine connoisseur.

As she sat thinking about life, and her own life in particular, she realized how much she missed her lovely little parakeet. At over ten years old, he had caught a cold in November and and died, leaving her weeping bitterly.

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After a time she had wrapped his tiny body in flannel, and made him a cardboard box casket. Then sat holding the almost weightless little friend in my hands, weeping the more.  Finally, sealing him inside for burial, she went outside and found a place in the yard under a tree, and dug in the cold ground a place for him, marking it with a special big stone. When it's warmer, she intended to make a marker with his name.

 

Alone held a very solid place in her life for months after that, because he was her companion pet, and there is nothing like the loneliness of losing a companion. Pet or person, the space is so silent. Almost as deep a sorrow as losing a child would be. Devastatingly lonely.

 

Her first bird was a tiny yellow canary that her sister gave her on the moving trip to the Oregon Coast. 12 years ago, and then Little Blue. She loves both species. Pets are personal friends and people love different kinds, matching personalities.

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Tiny birds have so many song, and are full of character antics, like how he beaks the mirror to say good night when she covers him, and how he was always so intuitive to know, when she was not feeling well or upset. And tonight she missed him terribly.

 

So, this is kind of an epitaph for Honey Bird the first. And, a recognition that she needs to have another little friend in the cottage with her, so she made up her mind, that very soon, she is going to look for another.

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Wearily, she looked at the clock and gave up the dreariness of a day, hoping the morrow would be brighter. Now it's time to go to bed.

Closing the journal, and laying it aside, she went to the kitchen and poured the wine that she never even touched down the sink, checked everything over, and walking quietly to the bedroom. But, it was not an easy night to settle.

 

A solitary life needs something of comfort in sound and movement, so, in fact none of us are truly solitaries. A fact revealed just tonight.

Climbing into bed, she was just weary from all the thoughts of a very long, dreary, cold winter day, and snuggled down under the heating pad, and felt herself falling into an exhausted sleep.