The Death of my Dear Lizard Friend

The best yard

I brought Nora home when I was seven and buried her at 24.

Not a week after she died, the house that I grew up in was sold.

It didn’t matter if my sisters or I were living in another town, state or country, the house on Circlewood Drive was always “home.” These might perhaps seem like small factors to others, but the disappearance of two parts of my life that I’d strongly associated with memories of youthful happiness created a future that seemed both strange and sad.

Any person who has grown with a pet will understand the void that comes along when it’s time to say “goodbye.”

Though very upset at the time, I’m thankful that these inevitable events occurred in the order that they did.

There’s a group of trees in the yard where many of my family’s pets have been buried. No past pets can be replaced and neither can our memories of home. It seemed fitting to set Nora’s rock water dish along with the other rocks and freshly overturned dirt where she was buried.

Just as it seemed fitting that my little reptilian homie could rest alongside the other members of our family and in a location that meant so much to us. Although, I probably would have snuck onto the property once it was under new ownership to bury Nora in her rightful place.

There are many moments that feel like the start of new chapters. Graduations, break-ups and relocating to new towns often mark these times. Standing next to Mirra in the yard and looking at the grave, I felt a strange sense of closure about Nora, the house and my childhood memories. These chapters had indeed come to an end, but the thoughts that go along with them are ones that can be kept alive among the trees in the yard and throughout the rest of our lives.



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