Sunny

If there’s one thing my siblings can do, its handle death.

Yesterday, while dad was out of town, our bird died. We just exchanged silent glances that said “we got this” and then buried him quietly in the backyard and scrubbed out the cage.

Then we went to Costco and ate lunch consisting entirely of free samples.

Later, at the dinner table, we reminisced about why we all pretended to hate that bird:

“I’m really going to miss scrubbing Sunny’s poop off the furniture.”

“I’m really going to miss how Sunny divebombed all our guests.”

“I’m going to miss how Sunny’s chirping kept me up at night when I was trying to go to sleep.”

Then we laughed, and then the little kids danced in the downpour outside.

Because really, on the day your mother’s headstone gets put in, the very last finality, what else is there to say and do when your silly little bird dies?

P.S. Other things about this week: I drowned in yards of white linen tablecloths, I read a blog entry that made me very smiley, I was attacked by two chihuahuas on a run, we made a fort in the living room, and I tried a yummy new recipe for scalloped potatoes and ham.

Also, 22 days till Levi gets here/ my summer starts for real, and 26 days till I go back to school. The light at the end of the tunnel is getting brighter and brighter each day, and I am lovin' it.