Today, Clara and June made an eternal home for a worm. As I sat rocking John to sleep in the low light of his room, June's face peeked in, with great expression and big eyes, to say that she and Clara found a worm. It was big. Really big. And it was dead.
After John succumbed to his crib, I found the girls outside on the sidewalk, rolling, poking and measuring a worm then dropping it into a mason jar. The jar soon broke, of course, and shattered the glass all around, but they then diverted their attention to a burial. They pulled out shovels and pitchforks and weeders and spades and gloves. The works. After digging it a special hole, the worm went back to the earth with a farewell from June: "I love you."
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