Ladybugs

Start writing... Ladybugs

I can remember being a small child feeling pure joy. I’ve recalled this memory many times when I think about being truly happy. It was a bright, sunny, fall afternoon as I stepped from the big yellow school bus. It was red at the bottom from the long red dirt road I lived on with my Grandparents. I walked around the bus in the slow manner I normally did. I was tired from the school day and my constant striving to be perfect. I was, as always, dreading getting home. As I turned the corner I saw her standing there in the grass just inside the black wooden fence. Her long, red, curly hair was blowing across her big smile, the smile she tried so hard to hide from the rest of the world because she was self-conscious, but not from me. My mommy was waiting on me! I ran into her waiting, open arms. She picked me up, spinning me around and around. We laughed until we cried. We cried the kind of tears that flow straight from the soul when it can’t contain its joy. Dizzy from the spinning, we fell into the tall grass in the field. To this day, I can remember the sound of her voice, the way she smelled, and how my hand fit into hers. I can remember how I felt, calm, safe, and completely loved. I find it difficult to remember a lot of my childhood. I’ve managed to block most of it, letting it fade into clouds of my mind like a deep thick fog. But, I remember every detail of this moment vividly. As we laid there in the tall bahaya grass, she told me how much she loved me, bunches and bunches she said. I rambled on and on telling her everything I had to tell, which was usually a lot. She was the only person alive that eagerly listened to what I had to say. She was the only person I could talk to, with everyone else, I would say my thoughts over and over in my head and then choose to keep my thoughts to myself in fear of being judged or ridiculed, a habit I am still trying to escape. All my emotions and words built up over the long periods of time we were apart, time that felt like an eternity to a child’s mind. As we talked, a ladybug landed on my cheek. It tickled as it crawled on my face. I gasped with excitement as another ladybug landed on my bare leg. We both giggled looking into each other’s eyes. Her eyes were like looking into the deep ocean, both blue and green at the same time. She whispered softly in my ear, “Be still my love, they will come to you.” I laid perfectly still, closing my eyes. Sun spots danced behind my eyelids. The sun was shining down on us warm and calming. The wind was singing through the blades of grass as they swayed gently around us. One after another, ladybugs began to land on both of us. She whispered once again in a voice that I now conjure as angelic. “My sweet baby girl, my Hope, anytime I’m away from you, when you see a ladybug, know that I am with you,”

As I’ve gotten older, having lost my Mom too soon and suddenly in life, at times when I feel sad, depressed, or happy and joyous, a ladybug will find its way to me, sometimes in the oddest of places. My son has visits from ladybugs, as well as other people close to me. Afterwards, they will call to check on me, or if there are experiencing something personally, knowing the ladybug is there for them. I know now that it wasn’t just the ladybugs that my Mommy meant when she said to be still, they will come to you. I believe it was joy, love, and happiness.