Gray Area

“So THAT’S why I’m sleeping in, Squeaky!” Momanita said. “This month there were eighteen cloudy days, ten partly cloudy days, and only . . . “

“Three sunny days,” I finished.

Momanita brought my writing nest upstairs to HER writing nest to check the weather calendar. To help I counted the sunny days. Good thing there were only three days. I just have eight counting toes. I’m more of a writing cockatiel than a counting cockatiel.

---

“I can’t remember the last time I saw dawn, Squeaks. It’s a struggle to get up early on these gray days.”

“Sunrise isn’t such a big deal. It’s like sunset, but on the other side. I LIKE sleeping in.”

To other hootmans this sounded like squeals and whistles, but not to Momanita. She MOSTLY understood cockatiel speak. I MOSTLY understood hootman talk.

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“We’ve been sleeping more because the sun hasn’t been shining, Squeaky Pie,” said Momanita. 

“I’ve been sleeping more because that’s what I like to do.”

“Lack of light affects us, Squeaks, but I’m not sure how.” 

“Why don’t you Google it?”

“I’ll Google it.”

Momanita tapped the keyboard. She Googled everything.

“Here it is, Squeakers. Our bodies have a rhythm.”

“MY body has more rhythm than your body. I’ve seen you dance.”

I bopped my head and spread my crest to make my point.

---

“It’s called a circadian rhythm, our body clock. When we have the right amount of light we feel better. Less light makes the rhythm weaker. This isn’t healthy for our bodies. We sleep more and eat more.”

“Lots of naps, heaps of Cheerios, bunches of millet? That’s a problem? Enjoy the gray days, Momanita.”

I stretched my wings to show Momanita how to relax. 

---

“I’ll make the best of the gray days. I’ll look at them as an opportunity to rest, read, and write. When spring arrives, there will be more sunlight. Then rising at dawn will be easy.”

“Rising at dawn is NEVER easy!”

“Gray days, like most things I don’t like, eventually come to an end.”

“Gray days, like most things I like, eventually come to an end.”

I’m not sure if Momanita understood me because she MOSTLY understood cockatiel speak. I MOSTLY understood hootman talk.

I climbed down to dictate my post. Momanita opened a new Word document. Being an inspiration is exhausting. I’ll catch a nap later.