perlita-explorando-en-el-closet-2_wmIt took me three years since Perlita flew away to complete this writing that I’m going to share with you. I started writing about her a year after she was gone. I wrote and I cried. I edited, smiled and added, as I continued down memory lane. This was the first of a series of writings. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s been three years and the months keep passing by, since you went away. The last time that I saw you was on that windy December 9th morning of 2011. How could I ever forget? I still remember your beautiful wings shining in the morning sunlight. It was the last image I have etched in my mind, just before you flew away and got lost in the horizon.

You’re unforgettable, and will be my one and only special pearl cockatiel girl. My first tame and hand-fed baby. I still cry like a little child when I remember you. Wherever I went, there you were. A constant companion on my shoulder or on top of my head. Always looking for a thousand adventures with everything that you found amusing inside our house: a cork cap, a plastic pencil sharpener, a string, my glasses…How many things. There were no limits for you, because you had a great imagination, and your surroundings were full of so many possibilities to play and forage, as many as your inventive little head could find. Even the closet in my bedroom was a little playground for you, where you used to play with my clothes and bags. And let’s not forget your hide-and-seek game behind the hangers. “Chui, chui”, you chirped happily when I called you. You showed your lovely little head, as if saying: “Here I am”, peeking out from an array of clothes and hangers.

And what about those nights when it was time for you to sleep and we would stay there as I scratched your neck and the beloved “three hairs” on your head, as I liked to call your few crest feathers. Time would pass by, where the seconds turned to minutes. I would look at the kitchen clock, and then I’d say to you: “Perlita, it’s time to sleep.”

Then I’d put you on your perch, and you, with that naughty and playful little tiel face of yours, hopped back to my arm and would start walking slowly back up until you were again in my hand. You would look into my eyes with that irresistible face and innocent eyes as if to say: “Just a couple of more ‘scritches’, mom.” There was no doubt; you would win yourself some additional scritchies before getting back inside.

Your little gray crest was not so big or abundant yet. And I think that those many head scratches didn’t help either, as your crest feathers always seem to have that slicked back look. LOL! That’s why I gave it the nickname of “Three little hairs” But you loved those scritches, so I was incapable of saying no to those demands.

How cruel it still seems to this day, that strong December blowing wind. It sure played a cruel prank on both you and me. If only you were not near that screen door, but how could I blame you. You were always after me, watching and calling out for me if I got lost from your sight. When I went outside to water the plants, it was not any different. You wanted to make sure I was still where you could see me.

I have asked myself more than once, if loving you so much was a sin. If that was the reason for your sudden and too early departure. Was it a mistake perhaps, for not wanting to clip your wonderful flight feathers? But you were so happy with them, showing them off and flying everywhere to play, to find me, to be with me. Oh, how I enjoyed watching you fly to the curtain rods and fall asleep there. Or getting to the top of the shower curtain rod where you would sneak a peek at the glorious morning sun! The world seemed so big and wonderful and full of so many things to see and experience! You were so daring and curious. After all, you were a young little cockatiel hen.

I recall God’s warning through a dream. A dream from which I woke up startled and sad. And since that moment, I called it a nightmare. It seemed so true and vivid. I even awoke from it feeling shaky. Oh, how relieved I was when I realized it was just a bad dream! But how painful it was when it became real. Just like a stab, or a shot right through my heart!

Time passed by, and I had yet another dream. I saw you as you flew down to me. And I had the chance to cuddle you once more, and give you your favorite head scritches. Near you, was a stunning yellow cockatiel, a handsome Lutino. And he flew down too, as if he wanted to meet the one who took such good care of you, the one person that loved you so very much. The parront that took you places on her head.

Then you flew away together. You looked so beautiful and happy, and healthy. And to this day, I think that the Lord answered my prayers to let me see you one more time, even if it was through dream. He showed me that you were alive and well. I have to believe that wherever you are, you are perfectly fine. After all, the Almighty has the power to keep you well and watch you closely. To provide and give you everything that you need, directly from His own hands, the same hands that created you with a love even bigger than mine.

Maybe you bring happiness to everyone that has the pleasure that I no longer have, of seeing your beautiful smiley face, or your gracious smiling beak. I imagine the infinite pleasure that you bring them when they hear your happy and animated chirps saying again and again: “Chui, chui, chui.” Or maybe, you fly free talking in birdie language, an endless and animated bird song that gets carried far away to distant lands. Yes, carried in the arms of the wind; the same wind that gave you freedom, or was it really so? If that is true, then this big world is no longer a limit to you anymore. And your horizons are now bigger and marvelous. The breeze blows softly and caresses your colorful feathers, made more beautiful by the glorious sun. They would be the grown feathers of an adult hen now. You should have lost your baby feathers by now, the ones that had that brown lipstick mark imprinted on your right pearled wing from all my loving kisses. And your beak must look more elongated, the elegant look of a gracious adult hen. Let’s not forget that you’re not a six month old baby anymore. You should be around three years and three months old by now. And that would make you a beautiful, gorgeous Pearl cockatiel hen.

If by any chance we should meet again, would you remember me, like I remember you? Would you fly to my shoulder or perch trustingly on my finger? Maybe, maybe not. I can only imagine and remember you with love deep within my soul. But, just so you know: I celebrate your life, and I’m so glad and so happy for the six months that we shared; for the smiles and the many laughs that your antics brought me. I’m grateful for the time that I had with you. I was yours and you were mine. And although it was too short, it was immensely enjoyed and lived to the fullest. Hey, you know, my dear girl; I even have a picture of you inside my purse. Literally, it’s not a figure of speech. You were there inside that brown purse. Don’t you remember? Smiling as usual.

Keep singing, and keep smiling, wherever you are, be on Earth or in Heaven. Don’t you forget the times that you greeted me so happily when you heard the beep of my car alarm, and even more loudly when you heard the gates open and my footsteps approach. Because you were the one that made my lips turn into a cheery smile after a long, hard day at work.

I love you with all my heart, my sweet beloved Perlita, and I still miss you. Please know, if that’s ever possible, that I carry you in a pocket inside my heart. Please, Lord, oh, please, let her know!!