The Sleepy Shells

My four year old great-niece told me about building a sand castle this weekend and how she was sad because the shells were sleepy and floated away, only to be eaten by fish.

Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Did you build a sand castle on the beach?

Niece: It was a big castle!

Me: How many bedrooms did the castle have?

Niece: Mommy helped me build rooms for the shells, but then they fell asleep, and floated away, and a fish is going to eat them now!

Me: Well, maybe the shells bedroom is in the fish's stomach, and they just wanted to go to bed.

Niece: No, that's not right, because it's dark in a fish's stomach.

Me: But isn't it dark in your room when you sleep too?

Niece: No, I have a little light.

Me: So maybe there's a light in the fish's stomach too.

Niece: No, there's no light in a fish's stomach.

Me: How do you know?  Have you ever seen inside a fish's stomach?

That ended the conversation.  Either she thinks I'm really really smart since I know where shells sleep, or she'll be telling stories about her crazy Aunt for the rest of her life.

Sydney's Garden

Sydney and Maalea were twins, and I adopted them as soon as their Mother weaned them.  They were born in my friend Karen's backyard in August of 1991.  I'd never had a cat before, but still agreed to take one.  Karen played on my emotions and told me that twins shouldn't be separated, so I took them both.

Maalea died of cancer in 1998, and my grief-spurred energy made me dig a pond in my Texas backyard.  I dug through the Texas clay and finished it in two days, collapsing from exhaustion each night.  Maalea's pond is still going strong.

Sydney died Tuesday at the very advanced age of 19 3/4 years old.  My last trip home I knew he was failing - he stayed in one place for long periods of time, wasn't eating, and seemed out of it at times.  My last night there I picked him up and brought him to bed with me, where he stayed all night.  In the morning I hugged him and kissed him and told him how much I loved him.  He purred loudly, and finally had enough - he jumped down and went looking for food.  I knew in my heart that I was saying goodbye to him then.

Again, my grief led to a burst of energy.  This time I dug a garden around a chokecherry tree near my Summer Palace.  It's planted with shades of blue and purple, with pops of orange.  Although the sign in the garden says "Sandy's Summer Palace", it's really Sydney's Garden. 

Rest in peace sweet boy.  Every time I look at your garden I'll smile, knowing you'd approve of the catmint I put in one corner for you.