my favorite rice and a stomach ache

I finally woke up this morning with the sun shining through my window. My apple green room cluttered with rubbermaid boxes of genealogy, the sheets in their usual disarray after having me as an inhabitant, Binford hair covering the bed spread because I needed him at 3.30 this morning when I wanted someone to cuddle with. My sleep was the kind where you wake every 45 minutes, realizing you should wake up but you keep sleeping because you can.

In the early morning hours, 2.50am to be precise, I sent Heidi a text message, "Are you still awake?" I waited a few minutes. Nothing. I called. No answer. Heidi is never asleep this early. Just my luck. I've had this fear since I was a child left alone at home, that my family will just disappear. Desert me. At the very moment I need them or feel the loneliest. Last weekend my car's back window was completely shattered. Carly called at 10.30am, but I didn't pick up. She came in my room and told me to come look at my car. I stood there confused for a few minutes, assessing the damage, then let her go to her parents house and I walked back to my room to call my mother. I called multiple times with no answer. I called every single person in my family in desperation. I left messages. I waited for over an hour, when finally my little brother, the last person I would've expected, called me back. He was playing basketball, my parents were cleaning the chapel. Theory disproved, again.

I phoned my dad at 2.55am. It went straight to his answering machine. He's probably avoiding the hospital calls he gets at all hours of the night, I thought. I called my mother. I let it reach her answering machine. Hung up. Picked up my cell phone again and held down "3" in my yellow-and white tiled bathroom. It rang twice and she picked up, sounding exhausted, "Hello?" I tried to stifle my voice, but bathrooms only create a loudspeaker. Someone was sleeping on the couch in the front room, one guest was on the floor, another sharing a bed with Tiff. I started crying, "Mom, my stomach hurts. I can't sleep. I've tried for an hour and a half. I took my roommate's ibuprofen, and I still hurt. What should I do?" She calmly helped me, went through the problem, consulted my father, and said she could only help me if I went home. We arranged for her to pick me up. I went back to my room. Turned on the bedside lamp and waited. I got impatient and called her, "I'm here honey." I opened the front door in the dark, locked it back up as I entered the cold 3:15am air, hood up, slippers on, and then trudged to the car waiting for me. We reached home after hitting every red light. My parents gave me drugs which I gulped down with Snapple Apple juice, and I shut their door dragging Binford along with me.

My mom entered my room, Binford had left four hours prior (he's an early riser and barker). "I have some sad news, Saffron is dead." My bright yellow, darling canary who suffered a lot of neglect and poor cage cleaning, was dead. About 5 1/2 years old, he'd lived a good long canary life. He'd survived a cross-country move, being locked in a moving van, taken care of by neighbor children, chased by yellow labs, and eating a poisonous plant. This little man was a trooper. He had been more active in the past few months than I had ever seen him. Orange slices and classical music could be the reason. "He lived a good life, and he was happy. He sang with me this morning. But I came back and he was collapsed in his water feeder. Tail feathers straight up. You're going to need to bury him. Your dad and I need to go to a funeral of your dad's aunt who we haven't seen for 27 years."

After minutes of explaining what I must do to bury the bird, taking care not to have the cat or dogs to dig him up, we settled on a blank checks box as a casket of sorts and throwing the entire bird cage and the green-leafed fabric cover my mother had made in the trash. Saffron deserved a proper burial. We settled on the tree near the recycling, yard waste, and garbage cans. I tried to dig his grave on my own, but discovering a massive earthworm, screamed and scared the neighbor's dog. I employed Heidi's services. In pajamas the triple-H oversaw his burial. We covered the spot with a stepping-stone nearby. Said our goodbyes. And left him to the elements and the nearly-spring day.