A matter of life and death

The morning started with tears. In some YouTube video, Sonic the Hedgehog died. (You thought Sonic was just a video game? Au contraire.) Anya, a Sonic fan, was crushed. 
We’d been up all of about 20 minutes. I hadn’t even touched my tea. Way too early for this sort of thing.
“It’s just a video, sweetie,” I crooned, rocking her like a baby. “On Netflix, you can see that Sonic is still alive.” She wasn’t quite satisfied with my answer, but her sniffles slowed. And in an hour, the incident was completely forgotten.
After I got off work, we ventured out for groceries. Which is when she noticed that her fuzzy caterpillar friend, who appeared to have claimed a corner of our porch as his home, was in two pieces. R and I found it like that a couple of days before; we assumed a spider had gotten to it, because we have huge wolf spiders around our house and it’s spider season. I’d hoped R would have disposed of the body by now. But he had not, and the secret was out.
She was devastated. And not quiet about it. With the way she carried on, I began to worry about the day when she loses a grandparent. I’m certainly not up for her getting a pet, unless we can find a tortoise or something equally durable.  
The tears started anew when we returned from the grocery store. And once again when we ventured out for ice cream after dinner. I was seriously contemplating a caterpillar funeral, just so we could come and go in peace.

Then a minor miracle occurred. When we returned from getting ice cream, the caterpillar was alive! Just crawling along the top step like nothing had happened. The second chunk of fuzziness is still in the corner of the porch. R thinks the caterpillar was perhaps molting, or hibernating, though hibernation doesn’t explain the spare fuzz. (I know nothing of bugs, nor do I care, so I am taking him at his word on this one.) At any rate, the dead had risen, and Anya was overjoyed, in that way you are after you’ve suffered terribly and are starting to feel good again. For the rest of the evening, she was her spunky, sassy, spastic self. 

I, too, was relieved. We’d gotten a pass. I know how rarely those are doled out. But there will be a next time. I need to prepare for it.
I’m just hoping they come one at a time, not two in one day.
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