last

i was the last one born into a family of 8

as i grew older, 8 slowly trickled into 7, into 6, and then 5.

myself, mommy, dad, gege

and our last dog.

from nights sitting on the kitchen floor,

my hand feeding her dinner

to make sure that she ate,

to carrying her outside,

since she could no longer go through the dog door:

her hips creaking like a broken door.

and paws worn out like your favorite pair of old shoes.

she would stop at the bottom of the stairs,

incapable of doing what she had been doing

for years;

as if fourteen steps were fourteen miles

a hill too steep to climb.

i would rise with ease,

able to do what she couldn’t

and scoop her up in my arms;

and carry her up.

and then down.

and up again.

and then, one day, when her tail stopped wagging,

and her heart stopped beating,

my mom scooped her up into her arms

just like i had

and took her down the stairs

for the last time.

and just like that, 5 became 4.