A Bug's Death
by Sherri White, Freelance Writer

The day I became a hero started off like any other day. It was a rainy Sunday morning; I was loading the dishwasher after breakfast. The water flowing from the faucet and the dishes clinking as I put them in the slots of the dishwasher were helping me drift away into my thoughts. Barney was entertaining my two youngest children in the living room. All was well. My reverie was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a terrified shriek from my three-year-old in the next room.

Thinking (and maybe even hoping) Barney had unexpectedly announced his immediate retirement, I ran to the living room to see what had happened. Lauren was on the couch, practically in a fetal position, pointing in horror to a spot on the floor. "It's a spider!" she moaned. "Get it away from here!" I couldn't see anything, so I got down on all fours to inspect the floor.

At that moment, a tiny white spider, no bigger than my baby's fingernail, skittered across the carpet in front of me. A shudder traveled slowly down my spine. I hate spiders. It doesn't matter how big or small or what color it is. I hate them all, but the worst ones are daddy long-legs. I had several run-ins with these horrible creatures when I was a child.

When I was about Lauren's age, I went to a camping facility with my parents. My mom and I went to the bathroom, and daddy long-legs covered the walls from the floor to the ceiling. I don't remember much about my toddlerhood, but that episode stands out in living color. Another time I was about six or seven years old, and a daddy long-legs fell from a tree, landing on my leg. I shrieked just as loudly then as my own three-year-old did on that rainy Sunday morning. That little white spider stopped in its path right in front of me. Lauren curled up even tighter and moaned again.

I opened my mouth to yell for my husband, official designated bug-killer in our house. Then my eyes locked with Lauren's wide frightened ones. I looked over at Becca, my one-year-old. She was quietly sucking on two of her fingers, watching this little mini-drama unfold.

When I was six years old, my parents divorced, so it was my mom I would yell for to come get whatever bug had made its way into our house. Spiders, grasshoppers, beetles and whatever else found a way inside were hers to deal with. Her lips were always set in a tight line when she performed these tasks. The time she had to remove a praying mantis from the top of the television her lips actually turned white, they were so tightly pressed together.

I thought she was incredibly brave. Mom remarried when I was 15 years old. Tommy, my step-dad, was promoted to official bug-catcher (he wouldn't kill them, he'd just toss them out the front door). After hearing my mom yell for Tommy to get a bug a few times, I realized she is just as scared of bugs as I am. Spiders can make her jump out of a chair and run for safety even now.

"Are you going to get that spider, Mommy?" my little one asked me in a shaky whisper. I knew then that I had to take care of this spider myself. If I called my husband to come take care of a stupid tiny spider, Lauren's faith in me just might falter a bit. After all, if I couldn't protect her from a little spider, how could I protect her from the larger problems life will deal her as she grows up?

I got up and grabbed a tissue from the box on the end table. I grabbed the tiny white spider, and wadded up the tissue as quickly as possible. I felt my mouth set into a familiar tight line as I carried my burden into the kitchen to throw into the trashcan. Lauren came running after me. "Thank you so much, Mommy! I love you!" She threw her arms around my legs and hugged me as tightly as she could. I hugged her back.

I know now that my mom wasn't really as brave as I thought she was when I was a kid. She was just being my mom, showing me that she would protect me from harm as best she could. I hope I showed Lauren the same thing that rainy Sunday morning.

© 1999

About the Author: Sheri White is a mom of three girls, Sarah (10), Lauren (4) and Becca (20 months). She is married to Chris, a software developer. Sheri is a freelance writer who has been published both online and in print. You can contact her at sheriw7585@ivillage.com or check out her website at http://pages.ivillage.com/pp/sheriw7585/index.html.

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