Susan Writes

My Grand and I hurried out my back door.  Micah wore his backpack stuffed with all the things a 5-year-old needs for his overnight visit at Husband’s and my home:  pajamas, underwear, a shirt, pants, a Spiderman action figure, a small rubber ball, and a Lego catalog. I juggled a bag of library books, my purse, a letter, and a watering can that I’d put on a garage shelf before getting in the van.

            My morning to-do list was in my head. Put the letter in the mailbox. Go to the bank and return library books.  Take Micah home.  Stop by the grocery for milk and apples and bananas – surely I could remember three items.  I was startled when Micah screamed, “Gran! Stop!”  With straight arms and legs, like he would lay in snow ready to make a snow angel, Micah stood two steps in front of me.  He looked over his shoulder; I think to be sure I had stopped.

            Alarmed, I stood still.  Micah squatted, that position only kids can do.  Flat feet. Knees bent. Bottom touching his heels and almost touching the ground.  He bowed his head.  “I think he’s alive and I almost stepped on him,” my Grand said.  An earthworm lay unmoving on the stone patio.  “Doesn’t he know he should be in the yard?”

            I said that worms tend to crawl around more when the ground is wet and it had rained last night. “So you think he’s been here all night?”  Maybe.  Micah examined him closely.  “A little part of him is smashed, but I think he’s alive.”

            Using his nimble forefinger and thumb, Micah carefully picked up the injured worm and then slung him into the yard.  The worm landed on top of the grass. “Uh, oh,” Micah said and then gently picked up the worm and lay him on dirt, near a flower bed.  Again, Micah squatted beside the worm, watching closely.  I took a deep breath, for patience, and waited.      

            Finally, Micah stood and announced, “He’s wiggling. I think he’ll be okay.”

            Micah comes from a family, including me, who often stops to save worms that have lost their way onto hard surfaces.  Later that morning, I walked to our mailbox and there on our blacktop driveway lay a fat earthworm.  When I touched him, he coiled, to protect himself, but making it harder for my not-so-nimble finger and thumb to grasp him.  On the third try, I finally moved him to dirt and then watched as he burrowed into the ground.

            Micah’s command, “Gran! Stop!” continues to play in my head. It nudges me. To do the things I can – save one little living thing, meet a new neighbor, wash clothes for someone who can’t. To appreciate nature – take in the yellow forsythia, the budding leaves, the chickadees at the birdfeeder. To be patient – accept life as it is, know that physical and emotional healing takes time.  To be joyful – just as a young child.  Just as Micah reminded me. ####

Filed under: Grandchildren | Tagged: Earthworm, Gran! Stop |