LADYBUG: HITCHING A RIDE
A LOVE STORY
A LOVE STORY
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DATELINE: 26 AUGUST 2017
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What a beautiful day, the sun has broken through the clouds, cranking up the intensity, toasting then clamping my skin in a vise—replacing tan with torching. Vancouver's summer has been almost void of clouds—a rarity to be cherished, except for the forests of the interior being swallowed by flames.
Hello, my friend, when did you latch on to me? A few blocks ago. Where are you heading? You want to find your home? My friend, we all crave home—it may be our final destination.
What's that, sure, you can hang with me for a bit. You are truly breathtaking. Do you mind if I call you, Lady? You don't, thank you. I'm Lindsay. Let me gently move you from my shirt to my arm. Your cute little legs tickle as you sidle the length of my arm.
I'm sad, just a bit. I don't know when you joined me, so, unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to take you home. We'll have to find you a new one. Don't cry. Wipe your simmering black eyes. Stop it; you're tickling me. You'd like to learn things about me?
Okay, I’m mostly happy, burnt out, but happy nonetheless. Why burnt out, you ask? I've been to a Specialist lately, diagnosed thus far with un-diagnosed, a phantom-like-creature is attacking my immune system, leaving me at times roiling in agony. I camouflage the pain with humour—I am funny. I really am. Really, I am. I wonder if I can say that same thing one more time, but only slightly different. When it comes to comedy—people laugh when I speak. What--you're laughing, at me? Stop running, tickler, the tingling is filling the day with mirthful possibility, don't stop.
Lady, I think I’m falling for you?
Hello, my friend, when did you latch on to me? A few blocks ago. Where are you heading? You want to find your home? My friend, we all crave home—it may be our final destination.
What's that, sure, you can hang with me for a bit. You are truly breathtaking. Do you mind if I call you, Lady? You don't, thank you. I'm Lindsay. Let me gently move you from my shirt to my arm. Your cute little legs tickle as you sidle the length of my arm.
I'm sad, just a bit. I don't know when you joined me, so, unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to take you home. We'll have to find you a new one. Don't cry. Wipe your simmering black eyes. Stop it; you're tickling me. You'd like to learn things about me?
Okay, I’m mostly happy, burnt out, but happy nonetheless. Why burnt out, you ask? I've been to a Specialist lately, diagnosed thus far with un-diagnosed, a phantom-like-creature is attacking my immune system, leaving me at times roiling in agony. I camouflage the pain with humour—I am funny. I really am. Really, I am. I wonder if I can say that same thing one more time, but only slightly different. When it comes to comedy—people laugh when I speak. What--you're laughing, at me? Stop running, tickler, the tingling is filling the day with mirthful possibility, don't stop.
Lady, I think I’m falling for you?
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What to do? What to do? Lady, it's time to part ways? I'm sorry about your family. How about here...you're not ready to leave me, you want to hear more—more about my camouflaged agony?
Okay, it has been plaguing me for over a month. The Specialist is experimenting on me, three drugs:
Okay, it has been plaguing me for over a month. The Specialist is experimenting on me, three drugs:
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I wish I hadn't done the research. My hair may fall out—I shave my head. I've now done six doses of CHEMO—it's knocking the bejeezus out of me—for about 2 hours each day I think my time is up. I know, Lady, crappy. I shouldn’t be laughing, thank you, you move just the right way to...
Why do I have a tear in my eye? Sweetie, it's time. This flower is beautiful. You're new home. You don't want to go? I don't want you to go? You must. Our time together has been wonderful. Don't worry; I won't flick. I'll be gentle. Just go. Go now. Run on to the flower. Please. Not up, my arm. We can't be forever. Our time is fleeting. Maybe one day we'll find each other once more. I hope for that reality. Okay, my beautiful friend, it's time. There you go—beauty upon beauty. I love you, Lady. Thank you for lending an ear and tickling my soul.
Why do I have a tear in my eye? Sweetie, it's time. This flower is beautiful. You're new home. You don't want to go? I don't want you to go? You must. Our time together has been wonderful. Don't worry; I won't flick. I'll be gentle. Just go. Go now. Run on to the flower. Please. Not up, my arm. We can't be forever. Our time is fleeting. Maybe one day we'll find each other once more. I hope for that reality. Okay, my beautiful friend, it's time. There you go—beauty upon beauty. I love you, Lady. Thank you for lending an ear and tickling my soul.
I turned and walked gingerly away. I looked back. Lady was waving.
Char, may I tell you a story about a lady bug who hitched a ride with me, I called her, Lady?
You called her, Lady, well, that was certainly original.
Char, may I tell you a story about a lady bug who hitched a ride with me, I called her, Lady?
You called her, Lady, well, that was certainly original.
