It’s that time of year where time seems to speed up and life becomes a whirlwind of activities as we head into the final few days of the school year. This year seems even more hectic than usual since our youngest will be graduating high school in (gasp!) a little over a week and shortly after that we will be moving. This past week was especially busy.
P had her Senior Prom, and I realize that I’m quite biased but I thought she looked beautiful.
The summer C turned 10, he wanted a pet of his very own. He got Buddy that summer and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Buddy was fearless – he dominated every pet we ever had and talked smack to the Eagles and Ospreys whenever they were flying around (safely from inside his cage of course. Buddy was no dummy.)
Buddy was a pretty bird. He told everyone he was a pretty bird (“Buddy is a pretty bird!”) all day, every day. Over and over again. Of course, he was also very good for an old, overweight, mom’s self-esteem since he also knew how -and when- to wolf whistle. Which, obviously, was whenever I walked past his cage. Have I mentioned how much I loved that silly bird?
But Buddy was C’s constant companion. If C was home, Buddy was on his shoulder, chirping and talking into his ear. He watched old war movies with “his” boy and learned how to make machine gun sounds. He listened to Eminem and Taylor Swift and he could dance like a crazy fool.
Buddy was C’s best friend, his buddy. He was just…always there. And then, he wasn’t. Sadly, we had to say goodbye to Buddy this week. It was difficult for all of us because that silly little bird had wiggled his way into our hearts, but it was heartbreaking for C.
Buddy was a faithful, brave, cheerful companion. We loved him. And we will miss him. Rest in peace, sweet little bird.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
— John Gillespie Magee, Jr