by Darla Paskell
June 1, 2004
The clouds cover low as spring breezes blow through the circle bordered by stone. Hats hold back the breeze; fingers tingle and freeze while we search for a ladybug home. My mom pulls the rake – we follow in its wake and tenderly push back the weeds.
“Here, Lady,” I say, “Please come out to play.”
“Please,” little Jessica pleads, “My sister and I are out here to try to make you a fabulous home. We have some nice sticks, ladybug bricks, and this wonderfully soft piece of foam.”
Here by the swing, bamboo wind chimes ring. It’s the perfect new ladybug lane. Just one stick more, and we’ll have the front door. A gum wrapper roof stops the rain. It’s starting to spit.
Mom calls out, “That’s it. Let’s head inside for a snack.”
Bye-bye, my misses. We blow hugs and kisses, and promise that soon we’ll be back.
“You’re all safe and snug, Lyla’s ladybug. We ‘Love You Like A Sister’.” I take Mommy’s hand, and we leave the ladybug’s land. Tomorrow I’ll tell her I’ve missed her.