When I had walked into my first-period classroom on the first day of my freshmen year, everything had felt rather out of place. Our once excited, curious personalities quickly resided into boredom and confusion as our teacher paced from desk to desk with a stern look and even sterner classroom policies. By the time dismissal came, I felt my soul had been removed from my body. By the end of that short week, I had been tossed into a seemingly endless sorrow tornado filled with mindless drama and excuses. It was pretty clear that the next four years of my life were going to be difficult…
That got to me. Within weeks I had found myself cooped up in my room, only looking at my computer and chatting with any random person from the internet that was willing to listen to my pain. My grades were trying to slip away from me (as a straight A student, this was difficult for me to accept). I had taken some rough turns involving my health and my relationships, but there was one thing that I finally noticed that kept me going.
Two weeks before school started, we had adopted our first parrot. His name was Newton, a Congo African Grey with sleek grey feathers and a tail that looked like the bottom of a red, plastic sled. He too had been thrown into unfamiliar territory; he had a new home, new people, and new sounds that made him very nervous. Only adding to the problem, Newton had also been injured at birth; leaving him with a broken wing and a lifetime of no flying. For the first time, I had found myself relating to the fragile parrot. That day I had chosen to put down my electronics to spend the day with Newton.
That day, Newton and I undertook plenty of fun activities. He played fetch on the kitchen floor while I cooked, we cuddled and watched movies, and we whistled along to our favorite songs as I did my homework. Putting all of our worries aside, we had found a way to have fun while still getting things done. We had both found a way to get over our fears; hanging out with the ones we love. If something bad had happened at school, I knew Newton would listen to me ranting willingly. If something bad happened to him that day (such as a nail trim or a bath) he was sure to let me know as well. Over a period of many months, Newton and I came up with a way to cope with our feelings. We knew that no matter how bad a day had been, there was always a tomorrow to fix it.