The parrot

Before I was born, my parents had the great idea to get me a parrot, and so they did.

One does not simply get a parrot, though. Parrots are commitments. Some of them live longer than humans, which means when you get one, you have to stipulate in your will what will happen if (when?) you die before the parrot does. You can’t just let parrots fend for themselves when their owners die. Parrots need to be fed & sheltered, too.

For 41 years of my life, this parrot was not a particularly demanding one. Every year, the parrot would remind me of its existence - first over snail mail, then over email. The parrot would check in with me like clockwork, speaking a number that slowly decreased from something in the low six digits. The parrot followed me across 21 moves over two states and three countries. I put a stipulation in my will for the parrot, like you’re supposed to do with parrots.

Last year, the parrot became markedly less quiet. Just like in the past, I received an email from the parrot with a number. Unlike the past, though, this number was in the low five digits. That’s when the parrot introduced themselves. The parrot was grateful for my support. The parrot said they would be here to help me through a process that would likely begin next year, based on the low number. Because then I would be able to buy season tickets for the Chicago Cubs, a professional baseball team headquartered four miles from my home.