My Friend Banjo

The snow falls onto my nose as I wait in line for one of the biggest events of the season. The Orange Crest. Ever since I could remember, my mom has always been a fan of The Orange Crest book series, a series consisting of eight books, in which this year, the eighth one is coming out. My mom would read these books constantly, and every year that the new sequel would come out, she just had to buy it. Unfortunately, this year, my mom has been stuck at our grandma's house because she has gotten very ill and needed someone to take care of her. This Christmas, it is just going to be the three of us, and I know how much this book means to my mom. It's something that I have to do for her. As for my grandmother, I've bought her some new aprons as she loves to bake, I was hoping that my mom and I could bake with her this holiday to cheer her up. There are only a few more people in front of me, but I notice that there are only seven books left. I count the people in front of me and see I am the eighth in line. I don't say anything just yet. After the people receive their books, I'm next in line. "Okay, that's a wrap." One of the men at the table says. Everyone sighs and makes subtle commentary to one another. I look around to see the people gathered at the table beginning packing up their things and getting ready to leave. As one man takes an empty box and turns around to store it in the back of a van, something falls from the side of the table. The crowd begins to dissipate, but my eyes are still locked on what had just fallen behind the table. As the men are all distracted in storing things in the back of the van, I quickly make my way over to the table to pick up what had fallen. When I turn it over, I see the perfectly painted cover of the very last book in the octology series of The Orange Crest. Looking around to see if anyone saw me, I place it in my coat and begin walking down the road to catch the bus home.

"More tea please," My grandma says, aching in pain. "Yes, I will be right back," I say hurrying down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Merry Christmas!" My mom says. "Merry Christmas," I say, still focused on finding the sugar for the tea. "Mom, sugar, please." I search frantically. She stands there leaning against the counter, puzzled and smiling at me. She opens the cabinet and pulls out the sugar. "Here it is," she exclaims. "You need to stop worrying so much and relax," She says with much concern in her voice. "I know it's been rough for you, around the holidays." "I'll be fine, mom," I say. Dunking the sugar in the tea, I mix it up and head upstairs to my grandma. "Thank you, Sadie", she says taking a sip. My mom comes upstairs. "We should do presents now, it's Christmas after all." She looks slightly annoyed. "Alright," My grandma says with a slight smile. "I could do presents," I help her out of bed and down the stairs into the living room. My mom sits on the sofa and holds two gifts. "Who's first?" She exclaims with joy. "I will", I say. I hand my mom the eighth book in the series of The Orange Crest. She looks down at it and gasps. "Sadie!", she sighs in an excited expression, almost in disbelief. "You didn't have to do this, I mean, how did you even- this is fantastic!" She says flipping through the 823 pages that the book withholds within its covers. The expression on my mom's face is all I needed, she deserves to be happy. "Thank you, so much." She smiles. "Of course," I say, unable to hide the smile that lines my lips permanently. "And now you, grandma." my mom passes a soft-wrapped gift to her. "Oh, how exciting", my grandma's sweet voice says. She unwraps a large quilt. "It's very soft," she says, wrapping it around her body. "I like it." "Now your turn," my grandma turns to me. She gets up slowly and heads to the back table. I unwrap the cylindrical-shaped item carefully to reveal a birdcage with a parakeet coated in yellow and green feathers. He chirps, and I look at my grandma confused. "Um, I can't take care of a bird," I say sorrily, "I mean, I should be getting back to work soon anyway, I won't have the time-" "Take it." My grandma says, looking at me with a reassuring smile. "You need the company." My expression changes into one with a slight sigh. I run my fingers through my hair. "I...I guess, okay. Thanks, grandma." I smile.

That night, as I stand outside on the porch to drink some fruit punch, my mom joins me. "Hey." She says. "Hey," I reply, inviting her into the conversation. "You like the bird?", she asks. "What? Oh, the bird. Yeah, I like it. He's cute." I say. "You can go home, you know." She tells me, reassuringly. "Are you sure? Don't you need help with grandma?" "No, go home, I got grandma. Besides, that new little friend of yours needs some company." She smiles and playfully pushes my arm. "Alright," I say. "I'll go home." Walking back into the house, I grab my coat and wrap my cross-body bag around my body. I take another look at the little bird in the birdcage. Not knowing what to do or say, I take one look at him. "Okay, little one. Let's take you home." I walk out to my car and place the cage in the passenger seat and sit inside. Running the heat in my car, I think for a few seconds. Wondering what my grandma and mom meant before, I pause, but I can't dig up an answer. I drive home and take the birdcage inside. I set him down on the table, and he flies frantically inside. I jump slightly, staring at it. What do I even do with a bird? Do I give it food? Water? A blanket? I find a small hook on the ceiling and decide to hook the cage onto it. It rocks slightly and then stops. The bird sits at the bottom of the cage, looking at me. "What?" I say to him. He tilts its head at me. "What??" I repeat. He chirps a few times. "I guess...I'll find you some seeds, fruit, or something. Goodnight." I head upstairs to my bed and go to sleep.

I wake up to the sound of the bird chirping over and over again, like nails being banged into the wood with a hammer. Over, and over again. I cover my ears. "Will you shut up!" I say. He continues to chirp. "Ugh," I groan. Heading downstairs, I grab a banana from the counter and cut it into slices. Walking over to the birdcage, I open it, and drop some slices into the bottom of it, but he nips at my finger. "Ow!" I yell. Closing the cage, I watch him eat the banana. Why did my grandma ever give me a bird? Well, I need a name for him. I stand there for about twenty minutes, thinking about names. Fruity, Flower, Lime, Cereal, Cheese, until eventually the names just begin to sound silly. "Alright," I say. "He chirps a lot, which is like music, so..." I think deeply. "What instruments make music?" I sit, and think of many different instruments, but none of which sound nice for a bird. "Whatever", I say. I cut up some more bananas, but this time, I open the cage slowly. "Who wants some banana?" I say. "Come here little guy," the bird slowly moves over to my finger and takes the banana piece, and eats it. Over the course of the next few days, I feed the bird a variety of fruits, vegetables, and he doesn't bite me. Some nights I even stay up talking to him about my life, and I don't feel so alone. Ever since the bird came along, I didn't feel so alone anymore. I began to realize something. This bird was given to me not just to have as a pet, but to make me not feel so alone. To learn what it feels like to work with something and grow a bond. I have the confidence to go back to work now, and today is my first day back. I look at the bird, and it hits me. "Banjo," I say. The bird looks at me and chirps. "Banjo," I say again. He tilts his head and chirps again a few times. "Hello, Banjo," I say, smiling.