Yesterday afternoon, our bird, Joy, flew out of our patio door window. It was all a fluke. My husband was cleaning up the patio, and I had her out of her cage watching a video and talking to her. I walked into the kitchen to get something, and she followed me because I am her “person.”
However, when she flew to follow me, she continued flying and went out the window and away she flew.
After that, we couldn’t find her.
People who don’t have pets might not understand, so perhaps this isn’t the post for you.
But Joy was also my “person/bird.” She got me through this pandemic thus far, my tiny writing companion, someone to keep me company during this dreadful time.
For the past 18 hours, I’ve been crying on and off, walking to the window whenever I hear a bird chirp, running to the door every time I see a lighter color bird fly past. I open the front door, thinking she will come in.
WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?
It has been such a difficult year in general, but we’ve also lost two pets this year.
We adore our pets, give them so much love, and take such good care of them. I looked up to the sky yesterday and asked the Universe and God, “Are we no longer deserving of pets? Is this a test?”
Ella is beside herself, bless her heart. Last night she sobbed how she was so worried about how Joy would survive her first night without her family, then I sobbed and we both hugged and sobbed and sat outside with the mosquitoes and called for Joy until we couldn’t stay outside any longer.
My mom and dad were over when Joy escaped, we hadn’t had them over in months because of social distancing and they were indeed still social distancing, but they had to witness it all. They bought Joy for Ella as a Christmas gift. My dad told my mom on the way home that they would get another bird for us if Joy never returned home, bless their hearts, they were so in love with her too.
It isn’t that we all want to replace Joy, it’s that she filled all of us with Joy in SUCH a joyless time of our lives.
When I would call my mom daily every afternoon, Joy would hear my mom’s voice and would talk along with us, filling my mom in on the going’s on of what was happening.
When I would leave the room while writing across from her, she would tweet for me, as if “where are you? where did you go?” Looking for me, searching for me.
Is she searching for me now?
This is where I have been sitting every morning for two months while I began writing my book. Joy’s cage used to sit on that yellow cabinet.
I sat down this morning and was filled with such profound emptiness.
There is no more Joy in this room.
Literally and figuratively.