10...Ella, Mom, Jeb (agh), Dylan (erkh), and NudgeIggyGazzyAngelFangMe. The usual suspects. Yup, one big, happy family. More or less (usually less).
9...Snickuhs bahs. Need I say more?
8...the number of Fang's blog posts that've gotten fewer than 5,000 comments. Also, the number of blogs that have sprung up in his...absence, claiming to be him, before quickly getting squashed. (Dylan showed me how to track IP addresses...and Nudge and Angel helped with the rest...computer crashing and mind-control-induced lycanthropy in the form of were-chickens, oh my!)
7...the largest amount of kiddy burgers Gazzy's managed to shove in his mouth at once, effectively making chewing impossible. But that's not to say he hasn't tried to break that record. Hello, floor-covered-in-chewed-up-burger-bits. Goodbye, appetite. Forever.
6...All of us, flying with wings, touching, brushing lightly. Our Bird Kid Olympics, with Synchronized Flying the main event. A real team, a real family. A real dream, where waking up almost hurts more than the pain of losing one of our flock, knowing he might not ever make it back. Knowing we might never fly together again like this except in dreams.
5...number of life-sized stuffed animals Angel's tried to mind-control complete strangers into buying for her. Coincidentally enough, also the number of times I've had to stop this nonsense with a stern glare and (occasionally) the promise of no dessert. Ah, dessert. Throwing cherries off the whipped cream and trying to catch them in your mouth takes on a whole new meaning at 10,000 feet.
4...number of mutant freak powers we have that, off the top of my head, remind me of stolen comic books, superheroes like Professor X, Johnny Torch (or whatever his name is. It's not like I've stolen anything from a library recently. No reason to anymore, he was always the one who wanted to steal them with me.)
3...times we all almost passed out from pollution inhalation after doing one of our shows. Ah, wasn't that the life.
2...of us, just the two of us, in memories, not just dreams, never alone for long enough before some catastrophe, explosion, invasion, alarm, pandemic, something occurs and I have to go save the world. Again.
1...promise ring on my finger, telling me he'll come back. Soon. Or I'll find him myself, beat him up and drag him back unconscious if I have to. The flock isn't the same without him, none of us are. But we've survived this long with five. We'll keep surviving. I think.
0... the number of days that have passed since he left that he hasn't crossed my mind, like, a zillion times. But also, the number of times I've ever seriously considered trading this life for a normal one if it meant giving up my flock. Even without my right-hand man, my wingman, if you will...it's beautiful. Life is gorgeous when you're sailing above it. And with this little pain every day to remind me of things lost, maybe we can stave off the greater pain of losing a flock member for good, the pain I hope never hits any of us. But I'll keep counting. I make up calendars in my head, knowing he'll come back if I just keep counting down. Seven more days, then five more, maybe ten more. Someday when I reach zero, we'll be a whole flock again. And, if for only one tiny, miniscule reason, it's a good thing he left. Now I know: I'm capable of hope.