Thousands of Friends

I’ve never reacted so favorably to a spider before.

I had to get him off my arm, but I didn’t want him to die.

So, I just blew him to the ground and checked my sleeve openings for more of these sneaky fuckers. They were scarcely bigger than ants.

I moved to the grass, which I previously thought to be covered in dog hair.

I soon learned that wasn’t the case when I saw another spider walking across my lap.

Like a boulder dropped in his path, he had no choice but to climb over.

Thousands of marvelous friendly grass spiders.

This park is incredible.

I can see strands of web across the green field for hundreds of yards.

The hill slopes downwards at forty-five degrees, allowing the pointless webs to catch sunlight for miles and hours.

I am the sunlight. When it rises, I will rise with it.

When it retreats, I will descend the hill, unwilling to be left without its warmth.

This day was made for me.

The other humans I saw were so pleasantly indifferent, like movie extras in a dream.

I felt like I could see one of the tiny orange worker spiders regarding me in my mind when I shut

my eyes.

He was smiling—as much as an arachnid could be perceived to be smiling—and tapping his two little hands together like a proud chef wondering if I enjoyed his meal.

But the image conveyed he already knew, from my serene demeanor, that I appreciated the work of he and his kinfolk.

The vision bowed and I bowed back.

I was in awe, grateful and ecstatic.

We’re friends forever.