Word Count: 240
The monkey on my back is a rare Callicebus from Brazil. Just discovered about a decade ago, it found its way over ocean and land to attach itself to me while I slept.
He’s a chattery little thing. Luckily, he sleeps through the nights and dozes off during the day for naps that give him all the more energy when he wakes with a screech and I hurriedly hand him a banana. He peeks his cute little face out my collar alongside my own and grins at reality. Women love him and feed him apple slices and scratch the top of his head and under his chin. A chick magnet for sure.
He’s a good monkey and slowly becoming a friend. He helps me decipher computer code–don’t know where he picked that talent up. He leans a bit to the left reading menus, preferring the fruity desserts over steak. I keep him busy with salad until coffee and shortcake are served.
It’s become much easier now to live through the days, leaving him with the burden of memory. Everything old, as they say, becomes new again and my responses are fresh in my ears.
He grows heavy with knowledge, a burden and yet a surprise. I bend with his weight but discover new truths at this level.
The monkey on my back is a rare Callicebus from Brazil. Though now through the years, we both call this place home.
