I’ve been ridding myself of stuff. All sorts of stuff. I don’t want to dust it anymore. Not that I am a dust freak. I don’t spend that much time dusting. Maybe once a month or so in either direction. But I want to do even less of it.
And some of the stuff or most of the stuff was stuff that was given to me. I don’t talk to most of those people anymore. Not sure why. Also not sure why I was keeping some little knick knack or small bottle of jewel colored glass. But I was.
I’m not now. Though I did keep the plastic parakeet.
Polly. Or Polly is what you called her. I’m not sure it was a her. Can plastic be a gender? And if what is true in most birds is true in parakeets especially of the plastic kind that the more vibrantly colored ones are males, then Polly is not a she.
She’s green. With a little bit of yellow.
You gave her to me for Christmas. She arrived several weeks or months, I can’t remember even though it was just last year, after Christmas. She’s battery operated and even came with a battery. You were happy to hear that.
She’s motion activated. At least I think that is why she moves her head and tweets. Though she often does it when no once has entered or left the room. I think perhaps she is sensitive to the air conditioner cycling on and off.
I got used to it. The tweeting whenever. Others noticed. Not that there have been that many people who have encountered her. My mother and I think my neighbor. But when Polly tweets they hear it and ask about it.
Then I have to explain how it was a gift from you and why I’m not sure why you would get me such a gift. A joke, perhaps? I shrug as I say it.
But I know the real reason.
You told me you got me the plastic parakeet so I wouldn’t be lonely. We hadn’t seen each other in almost a year when you gave it to me. And it seems unlikely we’ll see each other again.
Somehow, I am unable to tell people that.
And I don’t know which is sadder: That you think a plastic parakeet would cure loneliness or that I knew it wouldn’t.
I love the sweet rather mysterious melancholy of this little piece.
Thanks, Nancy.
Nancy said it just right in her comment.
I don’t tweet, but I do blog and I do send you cyber hugs. It’s good to see you writing here, Sandy.
Thanks, Elyse. That’s very of kind.
Definitely melancholy … but glad to see you post .. and I hope all is well.
Thanks, Frank. All is well.
Hi, Sandy! *you can’t see me, but I’m waving at you* Nice to see you around!
Thanks, Kayjai! Hope you’re staying warm!
I would love to get rid of more of my stuff.
Sometimes, that’s the only way I’ll come across something from someone from the long ago…
So sorry for the slow response to your comment, Guapo. I’m not sure why I’m just now reading it so many days after you posted it. I wish I was one of those techno genius coding types and while I think I might be able to master it and in my only computer science class way back when I was told I was a “natural” at flow charting (WTF?), I truly have no desire to do it. But be that as it may and it often is, I found myself thinking about who had given me each knick knacky thing as I put it in a box to give away. And part of my rational for ridding myself of it was they will never know I no longer have it, assuming they can remember they gave it to me.