Not So Gray Holiday

Christmas is a time of joy. The snow glistens on the ground, the multicolored lights glow like stars, and the love and happiness can almost be seen in the air. So why is it that this year is different? It’s bland and cold, and I’m tired of constantly being snowed in. Perhaps I’m finally becoming like Ebeneezer Scrooge, despising the holidays and everything associated with it. Jessica had always said he was heartless in the beginning.

But I know the real reason why this year is gloomy to me. Why the Christmas trees don’t seem as magical. Recently, a close friend of mine passed away: Jessica. The same Jessica who loved Christmas and everything it brought. The same bright girl who never failed to smile at the first sight of snow. I had known her since the second year of high school. I can almost hear her voice now, talking to me.

“Rebecca! Come make hot chocolate with me!”

Her sweet voice almost echoes in my head. A pain shoots through my heart, almost like my whole being is hurt even though my mind is the thing that’s broken at the moment. Jessica Randley passed away during the first week of this chilly December. A car accident the authorities had said. She never saw the black ice while she was driving that day. Her car had slid into the next lane, colliding head-on with a semi-truck coming in the opposite direction. The police said Jessica died on impact. At least I know she didn’t suffer.

Two weeks have passed since then, and this holiday season seems so gray without her. I can’t seem to bring myself to enjoy any hot chocolate like I normally do. The snow just feels like snow, not something mystifying like it was with Jessica. Suddenly I get a phone call, jolting me from my world of rather depressive thoughts. I’m back in the real world, my cold apartment, sitting on the red couch Jessica insisted I get.

I reach over and grab my phone from the coffee table. It reads Mrs.Randley (Jessica’s Mom). I can only imagine the pain she feels, losing her only daughter during the joyous month of Christmas, the same holiday that Jessica claimed as her favorite. I click the green button.

“Hello, is this Rebecca?”

“Yes . . How are you feeling Mrs. Randley?” She sounds tired like she hasn’t been getting any sleep. I know the feeling.

“I’m not doing so good, but it’s something,” she chuckles, the sound void of happiness. “I know this is probably a terrible time, but it’s about Jessica’s will.”

Jessica’s will. I never knew she had made one up. I guess none of us do really know where death lurks, and Jessica was always prepared for the inevitable. 

“Is there something the matter?” I reply. 

“Well not exactly, but she left you something, Rebecca,” Mrs. Randley says. Left something . . . for me? I had thought that her family would’ve claimed all her belongings. Jessica had joked back in 12th grade that she would leave me her stuffed penguin if she ever died, but teenage girls joke all the time.

I’m speechless, “For me? What could she have left to me?”

“Her pet bird, Rebecca. Her will says he belongs to you now,” she pauses, “if you can’t take him, that’s okay, but me and my husband have no idea how to care for a dove.”

I knew who this ‘him’ was, Jessica’s pet bird Apollo; she was a fan of mythology. I figured Jessica’s parents would have kept him or donated him to an animal shelter, not that she would give me her pet dove named after a Greek god!

“I . .” I hesitated. Jessica was an intelligent girl, my best friend of 8 years. Apollo was the only living piece I had of her, cared for with the love of my best friend. My mind was made. “I’ll take him Mrs. Randley. A bird can’t be too hard to take care of.”

Two days passed since then, and Apollo was handed over to me to take care of. The last living evidence of Jessica. It was only when her mom handed the birdcage to me did it hit me though: I have no clue how to care for a bird, let alone a dove. I just jumped at the opportunity to make Jessica proud, wherever she was up in the stars. She loved this bird, and I know she would’ve been disappointed if he was given away. But, staring at this bird, I couldn’t make up my mind on whether I made a mistake or not.

I held my hand up in an odd wave, “Uhm, hi Apollo . . .”

Apollo’s little head tilted to the side, staring at me with his beady brown eyes. I felt silly; he can’t say hi back, Rebecca, let alone wave. I grabbed his birdcage, walking over to the table in the living room. Apollo could stay here, it should be fine, his cage fits on the table. I set the cage down, inspecting him. I wasn’t sure what kind of dove Apollo was, but he wasn’t all white like the magicians have. 

Apollo was this ivory-brown kind of color. A light brown you could say. He had this black ring sort of coloring going half-way around his neck. His eyes and beak were a darker brown, and his feet were this light red color. Overall, Apollo was a pretty bird, just like the Greek god he was named after; except the Greek god Apollo wasn’t a bird and could probably be described as handsome. 

A soft coo broke my thoughts. Apollo ruffled his feathers, moving about his cage as if trying to free himself from the death gaze I had on him; I guess he’s shy. 

I spoke into the now not empty living room, “Well, welcome to my home Apollo. I’m not Jessica, but I’ll still try and care for you little buddy.”

And thus begins the journey to learning how to care for a pet dove named Apollo. He wasn’t difficult, and not as messy as I thought a bird would be. I guess Jessica trained him well; of course, only she could make a bird into a respectable little guy. I learned that Apollo was a Ring-Necked Dove, a calmer, and more commonly kept pet bird. Google does wonders, all I had to do was put what he looked like into the search engine.

I had only had Apollo for almost a week, but it felt as if he was healing my heart the tiniest bit, a little miracle worker. I had previously thought that I wouldn’t be able to utilize enough will power to get up this Christmas. After all, it’s my first Christmas without Jessica. But caring for this little bird gave me a new job to do, a new purpose almost. Learning what he enjoys to eat, and what toys are his favorite has been a quest of its own this past week. I had moved him to my room after the first two days in the living room, Apollo doesn’t like being alone. Losing your whole world- Jessica in this situation- can be pretty traumatizing to a pet. 

Jessica, my best friend in the whole wide world was gone, but I can’t change that. I still grieve, crying, and going through fits of loneliness when I see the mugs we used to use for hot chocolate. But this little bird is what’s left of Jessica, a part of her heart went into Apollo. 

The loud coo of Apollo reaches my ears, and I turn to look at him. He roams the apartment now, keeping me company while the cold rages on outside. Apollo stands on the couch, watching me with his warm brown eyes. A small reaches my eyes for the first time in the three weeks Jessica has been gone. Maybe Christmas won’t be as lifeless as I thought it would be this year. You were right Jessica. Ebeneezer was only heartless in the beginning.