When the Roll is Called Up Yonder, He’ll Swim There
He was eerily still.
I peered into the bowl and I knew.
“Mommy what’s wrong with Blue Red?” Miss C walked over and stood beside me.
“Uh, I think he’s just sleeping…oh. I think Blue Red is really ASLEEP. He’s not moving.” (Emphasis on “asleep,” which was code for hubby: “Blue Red is dead. I need some parental backup!”)
Miss C lost her Betta fish Monday night. She had had him for nearly three years, which in fish years seems to be fairly antiquated.
She wanted to bury him with a blue dolphin flashing light we got at the circus a few years ago, but we talked her into laying him to rest with some of his plastic plants from his fish bowl. We’re going to have a burial later today and although our neighbor’s daughter seems keen on attending, I asked that she respect our decision to have a private funeral. Blue Red would want it that way. He is now floating in state in a plastic dollar store cup up on the mantel.
Blue Red was part of the grand big girl room and big girl bed unveiling three summers ago. Miss A was just a few months old and we had Miss C moved out of the crib and nursery. A fish seemed to be the perfect accessory to her new bedroom and the hubby took her out shopping for a friend with fins.
I know Miss C is handling this well because one of the first things she asked after we confirmed Blue Red’s death was, “Can I get a new fish?”
Being a typical girl and Type A planner like her mama, she already has the details mapped out. The new fish shall be a girl, it shall be red, and it shall be named Violet. Considering Blue Red was blue and black, this makes perfect sense to me.
We’re going to wait until the weekend to pick out a new fish, though. It’s only right that we honor Blue Red’s memory for a few days.
