The Ladybug

This happened. A short piece to take you into the weekend.

Alligators, penguins, tigers, football stars, lions, bears, ghosts, ladybug. 

One by one they parade through the gym. Faces beam from beneath costumes. Smiles quadruple off mirrors on each wall. 

The customary “trick or treat” rings silent, as the club distributes candy for our visitors. They pass through three times, and each time we step back to bask in their light. Men and women in their 30s, 40s, and 50s all fight to hold back Time. 

We are naked before these children, who know not what awaits them, nor need they know for years to come. 

But really, who are these children? I wonder, these tiny flashes of joy. Poets or teachers, doctors, seismologists? What hardships will they know? Which will bounce grandchildren on their knees? 

The ladybug crosses my path one last time, her small hand held securely as she makes her way through cold machines. Her smile is a sight to behold, a wonder for which I give thanks, her measured steps lead down a path all her own.

Photo by Ante Hamersmit on Unsplash.

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