It rained today. Great drops poured from a gray sky.
Without warning, it stopped. The sun broke through the clouds and shone as brightly as if the rain had never come.
However, it wasn’t long until the rain returned. This pattern continued throughout the entire day. At one point the rain poured down in bright daylight from a cloud that just couldn’t cover the sun.
Rain.
Sun.
Rain
Sun.
Rain-sun.
It was a confusing jumble of weather that refused to make up its mind.
Today was a sad day at our house. Bob, the biggest and best of Newt’s pet stick bugs, died. She had been my girl’s favorite: the one she carried around on her arm, read to and watched movies with.
I know that Bob was only an insect, but she was Newt’s insect and she was loved.
We buried her under the lilac tree between cloud bursts. Newt cried for Bob. I cried for Newt.
I tried to speak comforting words to my little girl as we worked together to find a suitable rock to mark the tiny grave.
“You loved her so much, sweetie. And you took really good care of her.”
Great tears rolled down both of our cheeks.
“Mom, stick bugs are easy. You hardly have to do anything.”
At that point the ridiculousness of our bug funeral set in and the laughter came. We wrapped our arms around one another and giggled through our tears.
Laughter.
Tears.
Laughter.
Tears.
Laughter-tears.
We returned to the house just as the rain began to fall again.
On the way to the kitchen for a snack, we passed the cage that holds Bob’s sisters, also all named Bob.
“Bob is dead”, I said. “Long live Bob.”
