2019-06-01 - Conures Make Great Conversationalists

Sleep wasn’t something Isolde was accustomed to. She could barely remember the last time she’d slept soundly through the night. Maybe in Nebraska, when she got locked up for a few days for possession. How was she supposed to know the nice drug dealer was a cop? It really hadn’t been fair at all.

Squawk! The noise startled Isolde right from her slumber on the couch. Light as it was. Had she even been asleep? She had to have. It was dark when they arrived at Alexander’s house and now it was kind of getting light out. Squawk! Isolde blinked a little bit - looking towards the sound. Blue eyes finding the colorful bird in its cage. Up and ready for the day.

Isolde rubbed the sleep from her eyes, pushing the blanket off and standing slowly, walking over to it. “Hello little birdie.” Seeming more curious than annoyed. “Who are you?” The bird switched its position slightly to focus on her better. Inspecting Isolde as much as she was inspecting him. “My name is Izzy. What do you think of this place?” Silence from the bird as Isolde turned to start folding the blanket that was on the couch.

“I think this place is bad. But good. It’s Gray.” She continued speaking. “There are good people here. And bad people. Angry people...sad. I wonder which one I am.” A thoughtful pondering. “What do you think?” Looking over her shoulder. The bird twittered but didn’t say much else. “Perhaps.” as if it had answered her. “I think I am gray. The bad has gotten me, but I want to be good. Allie says that bad things can do good things. Maybe the good things can erase the bad things.”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how it worked. Even so, Isolde seemed to like the idea. “I think I’ll walk today. Maybe I can find new clothes.” Surely there was a thrift store around here somewhere. She was going to make the most of the money Alexander had given her. Stretch it as far as she could until she could figure out something. She walked back over to the bird, studying it. “I think you’re a good thing. You’re the hay in the needle stack I’ve been looking for.” A bright smile then. Some more twittering from the bird who surely had to be wondering who this crazy lady was in his living room.

Isolde started rummaging then - carefully. Looking for paper and a pen and doing her best not to snoop around because that was rude. Paper and pen in hand, she wrote in big, looping letters:

Thank you. Going to walk. Your bird is nice. See you later. - Izzy

Then Isolde pulled her flannel back on, ran a hand haphazardly through her hair and left Alex’s house. This town had much to explore and she had much to learn. And there were only three days left in her pill bottle.