Since I was a child, my favorite animal has been parrots. I always told my mother that I wanted a little parrot, my green angel, to be my best friend and companion.
All times are perfect; the special beings that come into your life have a wonderful and miraculous way of arriving.
Holy Week had passed. My mother was opening her sunglasses and caps store, located on the commercial street of the town.
She tells me that a man arrived at the store with a cardboard box in his hands. He offered her a parrot and said it had a wounded wing and had to be fed with a spoon.
In her negotiation, my mom told him she would trade it for a pair of sunglasses but also pay him in cash for the parrot. The man accepted the deal and later confessed that no one wanted a parrot in that condition.
It was 8 in the morning. That day I had woken up with a feeling that something good would happen. I always look at the sky and say to God: “I’m ready for your wonderful surprises.”
My wonderful surprise would arrive in the form of a cardboard box with a little hole.
My mother was walking toward me with the second-best gift she’s ever given me in life. The first, my life. The second, what was inside that little box.
When I opened that box, I was met by the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen in my life. He looked at me with his orange eyes and bright green feathers.
It was the first time I discovered that you can cry from happiness.
I took him out of the box and saw that he had a damaged wing. I knew it was the first true responsibility of my life. I would be his child-mother because I had to feed him with a little spoon.
As a child, I had trouble pronouncing the letter R. That’s why I told my parrot: I can’t give you a name with the letter R, because when I call you, my brothers will laugh at me. You’ll be called Paco.
I held out my hand, and Paco climbed onto it. We loved each other from the first day we met.
They say that when you love, nothing feels like a sacrifice because you give from the heart. I didn’t go play at my friends’ houses anymore because I had a schedule to make purée for Paco and feed him with a spoon.
It’s very likely that when Paco was taken from his habitat, he had a fall. That’s why his beak and wing were injured.
Over time, Paco’s beak healed, but his wing remained drooped. He loved eating sunflower seeds—I bought them with their shells, and he was an expert at cracking them open.
Years later, I got married and took my friend Paco with me.
From the moment he met my boyfriend, he didn’t like him at all. Every time he managed to grab him, he’d give him pecks.
Animals definitely have a gift that we humans haven’t developed. They see beyond faces and appearances.
Still, I ignored my green angel. Of course, everything has its reason.
A few years into the marriage, I went to a gynecologist appointment, and she told me I wouldn’t be able to have children.
That afternoon, I came home sad. As soon as I opened the door, Paco jumped off his perch, waddled with his crooked feet toward me, climbed up by gripping my pants with his beak, and made it to my shoulder.
I was almost always the one who groomed him. When I said the word “piojitos,” he would lower his head onto my shoulder, puff up his little feathers, close his beautiful eyes, and let himself be carried away by my hands.
Paco called me “my Nata.” That day, he called me “my Nata,” and as if feeling my emotion, he stroked my hair with his beak.
I said, “My friend Paco, I think you won’t have a little brother. How about you come with me to the nativity and ask Baby Jesus for a child?”
My green angel helped me ask with such faith that two months later, I got pregnant.
That day I came home shouting happily: “We’re going to have a baby!” Paco laughed and sang: “royal duckling, I dress in green, and I’m liberal.”
The day my baby was born and I arrived home with him, Paco jumped off his perch, climbed up my dress, and from my shoulder looked at the baby with great curiosity. I said to him: “Paco, now you also have someone to take care of.”
He understood those words well because, when the baby cried, he would say: “Nata, the baby.”
Time went by. One night, I was a victim of domestic violence. That night, I waited for the abuser to fall asleep, took my child in my arms, and left that house.
I cried because I had to leave my Paco, because I knew if he saw me, he would start making noise.
In my mind was the phrase: “I will come back for you.”
I went back many times to try to get him back, but as revenge, my ex-partner refused to hand him over. His words were always: “If you sign over full custody of the child, I’ll give you the parrot.”
From the doorway, I shouted to my Paco: “You know I love you. When my son is with you, you’ll be his green angel.”
Sometimes people who want to hurt us separate us from those they know we love.
I had been separated from my Paco, and one day the father of my child, taking advantage of a visitation agreement, decided not to return my son.
He left the city, and I didn’t know anything about my son for over a year.
It’s the greatest pain I’ve ever experienced. During that time, I felt like my soul was being torn apart. I would look at his little clothes in the drawer, his bed, his favorite toy. It marked my soul.
One night, after crying and being in a deep depression, I dreamed that Paco told me: “Mother of mine, we’ll be together again.”
You are never alone; God sends people to help us.
He sent me a lawyer named Mónica Ramos, a woman not only professional but also full of humanity. When she heard my case, she did everything she could so I could get my son back.
Finally, justice was done. A family judge ordered the father to return my son to me.
After one year, four months, and six hours, I would have my beloved son with me again.
I had my house decorated like a party: balloons, cake, and a giant sign for my son.
When my son arrived, he hugged me and said: “Mother of mine, I missed you so much.”
He had never called me “mother of mine” before—he used to call me “mom.”
I said: “That’s what Paco called me in a dream.”
He replied: “You know, mother of mine, Paco took care of me, and we played with Legos. He would carry the pieces in his beak and was my dragon in the Lego castle.”
“Mom, thanks to Paco, we’re together again. He made the ‘paquedad.’”
I hugged him and asked: “What is the ‘paquedad’?”
He replied with a beautiful glow in his eyes: “Mom, the ‘paquedad’ is freedom.”
My son sat on my lap and said: “Before I left, a lady who visited my dad’s house said she was a social worker. My dad and grandma told me I had to say you were bad, that you hit me.”
“When Paco heard that, he would jump off his perch and peck at both of them.”
“I would hold him in my hands, and before putting him back on his perch, I’d whisper in his ear: ‘I know you don’t want me to tell those lies, and I won’t.’”
“Thanks to not telling lies, I’m free to be with you.”
I was completely amazed. I used to call Paco my friend, green angel, guardian.
I had cried so many nights because he had stayed in that house, but the reason was the mission his soul had chosen.
His great mission in my life and my son’s was to do the “paquedad,” that freedom we all deserve.
My son didn’t feel free because he was separated from his mother. I wasn’t free because I was imprisoned by the pain of being separated from him. Paco wasn’t free.
That night, I talked to my son and told him that the right thing was for us to do the “paquedad” for Paco, to give him freedom.
I explained to him about the parrots’ habitat and made him reflect on what we both felt when we were separated and not free.
With love, I told my son: “You know Paco was happily in a palm tree with his mother, and some people took him away and even hurt his wing.”
I had researched a place where he could live in freedom. He would be with more parrots and might even have babies.
My son happily replied: “Let’s do the ‘Paco Plan’ for the ‘paquedad.’”
I gave him instructions so that, the weekend he was at his father’s house, he could say goodbye to Paco, because at any moment, people who protect wild animals would come and take him to set him free.
The big “paquedad” weekend arrived. I had coordinated everything with animal rescue. I requested to be present to emotionally support my son.
The child’s grandmother was the one who cared for him when he was at his father’s house. She didn’t like Paco, and he didn’t like her. She hadn’t given him away only because she knew Simón liked going to his dad’s to play with Paco.
Some elderly women have very sharp hearing. When Simón had his little parrot in his hands to say goodbye, he said: “Thank you, friend Paco, for the ‘paquedad.’ Thanks to you, I’m with my mom again.”
The woman grabbed a syringe filled with poison, took a towel, and forcefully grabbed Paco in front of the child.
While Simón cried to save his friend, she shouted: “For helping that woman, now I’m going to give you freedom—so you can die.”
She didn’t care about her grandson’s pleas or Paco’s fight, as he pecked fiercely to defend his life.
Hearing a child crying and shouting “Don’t kill him, don’t kill him,” the neighbors gathered around the house.
What the woman didn’t know is that parrots also have a guardian angel. At that moment, the animal protection officers arrived at the house. The police broke down the door and caught the woman red-handed.
The animal rescue team examined Paco, and he was fine. I hugged my son and comforted him. Simón wanted to hug his friend, who was trembling in fear, to calm him.
I also requested that he be present during Paco’s process to make sure he was truly okay.
Having witnessed such a scene, I took my son to therapy, where he drew Paco and wrote him a letter: “To my friend, the talker.”
Every year, my son and I celebrate an anniversary we call “La Paquedad.”
We dress in green in honor of our green light guardian.
We honor our freedom and the freedom of our beloved parrot.
We paint together a picture of Paco flying freely in a forest, with sunflower seeds—his favorite food—and a universe full of stars so he can fly high, up to the stars.
I wish to celebrate “La Paquedad” with my child at the foundation, to take him to see the “Pacos,” as he calls them.
Even though we both love parrots, we understand that no one deserves to live in captivity. You love in freedom.
We all deserve the “Paquedad.”
Notice: Names, identities, and certain facts have been altered or replaced to protect the privacy of those mentioned. Additionally, some passages have been partially or entirely fictionalized; therefore, this narrative may contain elements of fantasy.