funeral for a friend
I was walking onto the patio to make a phone call when I saw the bird on the step. She made me think of a sad story that I read as a child and retold (badly) this weekend, as we walked through a riverbed. I always remember that story when I see a dead bird - as though each one is the brave and selfless protagonist I imagine her to be.
I took her to the backyard and buried her under a cactus, folded up in a napkin shroud. The guys were in the kitchen when I came back in, brushing the dirt from my dress pants and visibly saddened.
I bet that makes me pretty weird.