Way back in 2011, Julia expressed her desire to have a pet. She would take any animal we'd give her, she just wanted a pet. Honestly, I think she wanted a pet so she could say she had one when they talked about them at preschool. In December, Santa worked his magic, and a betta fish came to join our family. We named him Winston.
Winston has been a silent but strong member of our family. He lived through two moves and even, at times, neglect, in the form of the murkiest water I've ever seen. He spent countless hours in his rainbow cave, and was the champion of calm living. The girls were sure to include him in drawings of our family. I know he was a fish, and thus our physical interaction with him was limited, but we all loved him.
It is with great sorrow that I must announce that Winston passed away this weekend. He died sometime Friday night/Saturday morning. Clark had high hopes that his Good Friday death would foretell an Easter Sunday resurrection, but that was not to be. We said a few words, shed a few tears, and sent him to a watery grave. Julia was particularly heartbroken. She couldn't bear to watch the send off, and instead cried on the stairs. She feels things deeply, that one. Ella, on the other hand, wanted to see "dead Winston" and laughed at the idea of flushing him down the toilet. My daughters look alike but act so differently.
Perhaps one day we'll move on and find a new fish, but for now we are content to hold on to the memories of Winston and mourn our loss.
(I know it might seem a little ridiculous, but I really am quite sad that he's gone. I see his empty fishbowl and want to cry.)