The song I still remember

To my ever loved PACO:

My father kept two canaries in separate roomy cages beside each other, one yellow and one white. The yellow one, Paco, always began singing when Dad switched on the radio. Sometimes we could barely hear the news, but Dad refused to turn it up. “Paco was here first,” he said.

When Paco died after a short illness, despite veterinary care, the quiet felt much bigger than we expected. Dad left the radio off for several mornings. Even now, when I hear a canary singing through somebody’s window, I think of him eating toast and arguing cheerfully with a bird.