Sitting on my back patio, I roll my pants legs up to welcome a little sunshine onto my pale skin. The warmth caresses me, as I rock gently on my Costco hammock chair, almost lulling myself to sleep. With my eyes closed, I hear the steady hum of a fly, the symphony of bees in my blossoming orange tree, and a far off crow cooing (though, if it were closer, it would likely sound like a shrill caw).
My mind wanders, lighting upon a reverie – this is one of my favorite words in the English language. I’ve always loved it; felt a closeness to it. Ever since I was a child, I would often slip into reveries; though, I didn’t know this word until young adulthood – I’ve escaped the horrific state of our nation and am walking through the forest of Three Pines, watching my son and our dog running ahead.
A light tickle across my shin pulls me from my escape. My first instinct it to rub away the tickle, but when I’m outside, I know better. I open my eyes, blinded by the brightness of my present. Once my eyes adjust, I see a minuscule spider crawling across my left shin. I’m not afraid of spiders, so I observe it was curiosity.
It begins a sharp ascent up one of my leg hairs. It’s been a while since I’ve shaved, so the tiny spider has room to literally crawl up one leg hair. It’s one of the most absurdly fascinating things I’ve witnessed in recent days! Fearing that the arachnid will start making a web across my hairy terrain, I gently scoop the little creature onto the tip of a finger, and allow it to float down onto a nearby plant.
I wonder if spiders find themselves entrenched in reveries like myself?