Pictured here are the Clarks cerca 1983. That's me in front with the parakeet on my shoulder. About a week after this picture was taken, my parakeet, Pierre, died. Overcome with the grief of my beloved pet, my dad told me that sometimes when we write down our feelings it helps to ease our pain. So in my very first journal I wrote, "Dear Diary, my bird, Pierre, died today. He was a good bird and I will miss him very much."
Since that time I have kept a faithful journal in one form or another. Today, my blog is one of the places where I share my thoughts, dreams, joys and sorrows, but mostly joys. Thanks, Dad, and thank you, Pierre.
I also had a beloved parakeet as a child. His name was Chipper. Since then I've had many pet birds - I just can't resist their cuteness! I can't understand when people are annoyed by the noise birds make in the house. It cracks me up, and I never get tired of it!
ReplyDeleteI DO get tired of vacuuming up all those feathers! ;)