cruel children
May 14, 2008
the summertime of our youth meant black widow hunting with a can of aqua net and a lighter. rummaging behind junk boxes in the shed or in between the wooden slab entrance of our mother’s garden, we could spot her irregular spider web several feet away; the way it glistens in the afternoon shade. my brother held the aqua net can and i ignited the fire; it created a firestorm, an instantaneous charred death.
the cruelest act was watching her cocoon of eggs burn; and her babies scattering for shelter.
it is a nightmare that returns, the phobia that remains in the forefront. Yes, i dream of the dead mothers; their hour glass bellies resting against mine, their children crawling up and down my arms and legs is if i were their play gym.
it is a reoccurring sentence given for the crime of being a cruel child.
in our yard, they are free to take shelter in the cactus, in the aloe vera garden, inside the old wooden rocking chair that rests under the mesquite tree.
inside me, turmoil brews when little bella races around the yard–curious and brave in extending her hand in areas where those shiny widows may rest.
we watch her carefully.
we are told widows fear us more.
dearest reader, i must confess i am at odds with myself.
one half is deathly fearful of their poison and vengeance; but the other half believes in harmony, that all mothers must exist side by side.
so, i show bella her glistening web, the beautiful black mother and her red hourglass crown. I tell her, “if you see her red belly you must not touch or get too close.”
i do believe she understands what i am saying.
***
inspired by the thought of wearing my cruelty like a scarlet letter or a necklace charm.
(a real black widow charm here )
May 15, 2008 at 4:46 pm
this makes my heart hurt. i know the struggle, but don’t know the answer. i always lean towards living in peace and harmony & learning how to co-exist. but, i don’t know if i would feel differently if it were my baby’s hand reaching into the web.
May 15, 2008 at 5:14 pm
it is definitely a paradox i fight with every day. perhaps the best solution is another move?
wink, wink.
May 17, 2008 at 1:29 pm
“their hour glass bellies resting against mine…” Beautiful.
May 17, 2008 at 11:11 pm
When I became a mother I went around the outside of our townhouse and killed all the redback spiders I could find with a flat head screwdriver. I feel the same way about anything that carries disease or poison.
Now we live on the other side of the world and it is easier to be in harmony with nature; until the little feckers are in the hot press and I get the traps out quick sticks. They are mice, not dolphins I tell my hippie mates. I don’t want their shit on my kid’s clean linen.
We lived in the outer suburbs growing up; and I remember my Dad’s quite justified obsession with killing every snake that came into our back yard. Poor things were just trying to get away from the industrial development behind our quarter acre lots; But they were Tiger Snakes, in the Top ten of the deadliest snakes in the world and not welcome under my swing set (where I met one and promptly assumed the sloth position, dangling until Dad could fetch the shovel and despatch it to the compost heap, sans head)
Yes we must all defend our young; it is our instinct. But perhaps we should learn to build Our nests, a little further away from theirs?
xx
May 18, 2008 at 4:45 pm
thank you hammie for sharing your tale; perhaps it is my own fear of getting too close to them. i hear stories of how people deal with widows…the best one is sucking them up with a vacuum cleaner.
all of it irks me out.