I was terrified of spiders as a child. In fact, I don’t like them much as an adult either. But my world would stop at the sight of one when I was small. My little sister was barely able to walk, and I would set her wobbly self in the direction of one of these feared creatures on the sidewalk, and tell her to step on it for me. She was barely 2 at the time! Baby sister to the rescue!
I would react to pictures of spiders – I hated looking up words in the dictionary that started with SP, I would have to turn to THAT PAGE that had a huge tarantula on it. Why would they put a picture of a spider in the dictionary? Just to make me jump, I’m sure.
The nightly ritual. Mommy would come in to tuck us in. Shake the curtains, check under the bed, look behind the toy box. Are you sure? None there? OK. Good night. Lights out. Wait – what’s that? Under the windowsill? I see one, I know I see one. MOMMY!!! How did you see that? I can see his eyes glowing.
MOMMY! There’s one in the tub! How can you see it, it’s so dark in here. I can hear it – climbing up the side of the tub. Really. There was no way to convince anyone of this. Even me. Was that real?
I remember the story, but who can hear a spider?
Last night, well actually quite early this morning, I woke at 4:30. My usual early morning off and on slumber was interrupted by a tiny click, click, click. Was the dog in my room? Did he somehow figure out how to get in here? No, can’t be the dog. Maybe nothing. Click, click, click. Great, a mouse in my room. How am I going to get THAT out of HERE at this hour? Nah, it’s too soft to be a mouse. Light, reach for the phone that has a flashlight app. Nothing. Click, click, click. Are you serious?
There it is . . . on a small plastic bag that was left on the floor. Click, click, click.
I can hear spiders.