Concerning Ladybugs and Time

My dearest Lucy,

I hope you enjoy.

- Amma

Lucy stared at the writing. It was on a folded up piece of notebook paper, tucked inside the binding. She shut the notebook, keeping her thumb inside. Just a plain black notebook. Nothing notable about it. The cover was a smooth leather-like material, most likely faux, with no distinguishing lettering or marks. She flipped it back open.

June 23rd, 2008.

It just occurred to me that I might start writing down some small moments that we’ve spent together, perhaps for Lucy to read when she’s older. It was her fifth birthday yesterday, and she’s been walking around with an extra pep in her step, talking about how she’s a real big kid now. I can’t help but chuckle. We spent the day in the garden, and I showed her the flowers. She was so sweet, wanting to see and touch all of them. She seems to have a particular affinity for ladybugs. I wish I had had a camera on me.

Lucy remembered being newly six years old, sporting a large toothy grin and bright yellow rain boots, feeling like she was on top of the world.. Amma held her chubby hand, with its wriggling, curious fingers, and walked with her through the garden. At every flower, they stopped. Amma told her all of their names, from the little forget-me-nots to the overflowing hydrangeas. Lucy had stretched her fingers out, eager to pet every velvety petal, and Amma had chuckled softly, guiding her small hand, and murmuring a little chant of “gently now, gently.” Amma told her that everything in the garden was Lucy’s friend, and she should treat them as such. Lucy spent the rest of the day introducing herself to every flower, every rock, and every bug she came across. When Amma tracked her down, she had been squatting on the garden path, giggling at the ladybug scurrying across her fingers. She remembered turning to Amma, and giving her a smile as bright as a thousand stars, before proclaiming that the ladybug was her “bestest friend.”

September 1st, 2008.

Tomorrow is Lucy’s first day of school. She went and picked out a backpack with her mother yesterday. She chose a ladybug backpack. I told you she loves ladybugs. She hasn’t taken it off since. I had everyone over for Labor Day today. It’s an excuse to have everyone together. Lucy’s cousins ran off to play in the woods, and poor Lucy couldn’t keep up with them. She’s sitting next to me right now, with her head in my lap, sniffling very dramatically. I guarantee you that as soon as one of them comes back she’ll be back up and running, ready to play again.

Lucy smiled wryly at the memory. She remembered feeling so small compared to her big, nine year old cousins, with their long legs that carried them away from her. She remembered the smooth rub of Amma’s linen dress against her damp cheek, as she lay there waiting for them to come for her. She supposed she had been a little bit dramatic, but that was half the fun. She missed being able to curl up like that, to feel small and completely sheltered from the bluster of the world.

Lucy thumbed through the book, stopping at a random entry.

April 14th, 2010.

Today was not a happy day for us. We were playing a very competitive game of hide and seek, which I suppose I should have kept a closer eye on. Somehow Lucy managed to squeeze in the gap behind the stairs, where the pipes from the boiler run. I guess she slipped, and as she was falling, lunged out and grabbed the hot pipe. Her little hand is covered in very large, red blisters. I just finished slathering it in aloe, and she’s deciding what movie she wants to watch with dinner.

Lucy cringed as she read the entry, her right hand tingling at the memory. She remembered the intense searing pain, and how she couldn’t move for a second, her entire body overcome by panic. She could still feel cool aloe as Amma smeared it carefully across the burns. She had cried, lamenting the loss of her dominant hand, until she figured out that it got her out of homework.

March 13, 2012.

Lucy lost another tooth today! It’s been wiggling for about a week, and she’s had a delightful time playing with it with her tongue. More importantly, we’re baking cookies to celebrate. Chocolate chip cookies, a classic. She hasn’t stopped dancing around the kitchen, squealing about the Tooth Fairy, and asking how much I think she’ll get this time. Being little is a blessing.

Being little was indeed a blessing. Lucy traced her fingers over the letters Amma had traced ink into all those years ago. She remembered that tooth. She remembered how Amma cringed and shied away whenever she wiggled it with her tongue. She could smell the spiraling sent of chocolate and baking cookies. They had been divine, smooth and chewy, with the chocolate chips melted perfectly. Lucy wished she had the recipe.

December 22nd, 2014.

There are only three days until Christmas as Lucy keeps reminding me. Yesterday she came to me, her brow all in a scrunch, asking about Santa. She said her cousins told her he wasn’t real. She looked at me with these big, pleading eyes. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t wreck that childhood innocence. I told her that this world is full of magic, if only we choose to believe in it. I hope that was the right response.

It was the right response. Lucy remembered her cousin’s jeering face, and how she ran straight to Amma, knowing that Lucy could count on her to tell her the truth, or at least make things better. Amma had leaned down, and brushed Lucy’s hair from her eyes, and told her about the magic that this world has. Lucy believed with every ounce of her young soul.

She skimmed even farther into the notebook, stopping just at over halfway through.

July 7th, 2015.

Lucy isn’t here right now. She’s with her friends, watching a movie or something like that. Nothing particular has happened, but it’s just hit me, as I’m looking outside at the garden, that that day with the ladybugs was a long time ago. It’s like watching a ghost of the past. I don’t know where the time went. She’s still young, she still has a lot to do, and a long way to go.

Lucy’s ears blurred, and she swallowed heavily, her breaths hiccuping ever so slightly.

October 30th, 2016.

Lucy has decided that she’s not doing anything for Halloween this year. I’m not sure what happened, but when I asked she seemed upset. She said she was too old, and she didn’t even care about Halloween anymore. I didn’t want to press her, but something happened. I just wish I knew what it was so I could help. Life is so difficult at this age. The world is so large, and you feel so inconsequential. We’ve decided that we’re going to watch reruns of old sitcoms all night long. I don’t know what to do to make her feel better.

That had been an awful Halloween. Lucy had been planning to hangout with her friends, they had a group costume planned and everything. For some reason, a few days before Halloween, they all decided to ditch her. It wasn’t any kind of spoken agreement, at least not between them and her, but they all stopped to talking to her out of the blue. She had no one. Lucy never figured out why they stopped liking her all of a sudden. She remembered Amma’s worry creased face, inspecting Lucy’s face, searching for some sign or explanation. She remembered the tight knot in her chest, and the overwhelming urge to let everything out, to scream and cry and feel the misery of it all wash over her. She also remembered falling asleep to the sound of an old laugh track, her hands sticky with candy.

November 13th, 2018.

Lucy is staying over tonight to watch the full moon. It’s an absolutely perfect night, if not a bit cold. I just got a new fire pit, a little metal one that I’ve sent up in the yard. We put out blankets and pillows, made it a real event. Lucy brought marshmallows and roasted enough that she may not be able to fall asleep. I’m glad I got to share this with her. These moments are becoming more few and far between.

The last line sewed a knot of guilt in Lucy’s chest. Over the years she spent less and less time with Amma, as a result of school, sports, and friends. That night under the moon had been perfect in every way. She had eaten enough marshmallows to make her sick, and stared up at the endless, glimmering tapestry of stars. The moon was the main event, as it hung in the sky, huge and luminescent. It was hypnotizing, and humbling. Life at that moment felt so small, next to the great expanse of the cosmos.

May 22nd, 2020.

I haven’t seen Lucy in many months. She FaceTimed me today. Every time I see her, the less hopeful she seems. I don’t blame her, this whole lockdown situation has been rather life draining. I could never tell her that though. All I can do is reassure her that things will get better soon, that we have seen worse times, that there is always hope. I think it helps. I miss her terribly.

Lucy remembered her FaceTimes with Amma. Amma always seemed so serene and wise, always bringing back stories from her youth. Amma told her stories about World War II, how her father and brothers shipped away overseas, with no guarantee of every coming back. She told Lucy stories about the 1960s, about the civil unrest, and the assassination of the President, and the uncertainty of what the future held. But Amma always finished every story with hope, telling her about how communities came together while their families were fighting in Europe, how art and music flourished despite the fear. Lucy remembered clinging to her stories, like a drowning man to a life preserver.

September 18th, 2021.

Lucy came to visit me today. I hate her seeing me like this. I wish we were back in the garden playing with the ladybugs together. She sat next to my bed and read me a poem that she wrote, a poem about flowers. She told me she wrote it for me, to remind me of the good times. Lucy stayed with me all day, telling me about her life, about school, about how she couldn’t wait for me to go back home. I hope I don’t let her down.

There was one more entry left. Tears trickled down Lucy’s cheeks, and she was careful to wipe them off before they ruined Amma’s entry. She flipped to the last page.

My dearest Lucy,

I will make this sweet and to the point. I am so proud of you, little ladybug, and I want you to have every opportunity in life. As a girl, I had to work for every penny, and all of it went to keeping myself alive. I want you to have good things in this life, I want you to be able to travel if you want, to buy a gorgeous dress just because, to learn and laugh, and be free of worry. That is why I have left you $20,000 in my will. I know this won't give you everything, but I hope it gives you a headstart.

Love always,

Amma

Lucy stared, at the little black notebook. She hugged it to her chest, chin curling down. Maybe in time, she could find happiness in this. Money like this was incredible, but at that moment, all she wanted was her grandmother back.