I release Wonder from the box into the small hollow I’ve dug. Before I cover her with ground, I take a moment of silence to lie down in the wet grass and stroke her shiny body.
“Wonder, how is it that I could be born a person and you could be born a bird?”
Her head shifts ever so slightly when I straighten her feet.
“And why would a bird as pretty as you live just long enough to hatch from an egg and then still die?”
I can wonder all I want I guess. But the truth is there are some questions about life that just don’t offer easy answers.
I cup my hands into scoops, bulldozing an ample pile of dirt on top of the animal’s body. Once the ground on top of Wonder’s grave is patted down flat, I mark it with her broken eggshell, feeling particularly close to the true center of my heart.
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