Spiderman

I wrote this during the summer, there was a spider that lived in the window near my cubicle at work, and this is his story.
It may seem a little childish in sense, but it was a long lonely summer in the office "Grisham" (I named him) was my only friend. We had lunch together almost everyday. His death came eventually, when the windows were cleaned. I miss him, my little summer friend.


There is a spider who lives in my window.
The window is on the 5th floor of a tall building, and although it is no where near the highest floor on the building, it is still quite a high place for a spider to be living.
Nevertheless, every morning he is there, without fail. Rain or shine, way up in my window, waiting patiently in the center of his web.

He is not a small spider, but rather big, at least he is in my eyes. He has a big round body, the size of a dime. I can see his legs as he glides across his web.

He rarely moves, but when he does there is something about it that catches my eye. Graceful is not the word I would use to describe a spider, but there is something different in his movements. It is not elegant in any way to be sure, yet, it is special. It’s an awkward way of moving, going every which way at once. He seems to be in a hurry, but I can see no reason for him to rush.

I wonder sometimes how he can possibly survive so high. Can there really be an abundance of flies and bugs passing through his high-rise home? There never appears to be anything trapped in his web, but still, he’s there day after day.

Most days he just sits in wait in the center of his web. Sometimes I turn to look, but he has disappeared. There are days when I think a bird has finally discovered his hiding place, but he is always back the next morning without fail, waiting in the center of his web.

The weather is terrible today, grey and wet. The wind, although not quite gale force, is picking up speeds. A part of me is worried that the spider will be washed away. I tell myself that it’s silly to worry about a spider, but in a small way he is more then just a spider to me. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing him in the corner of my eye, always perched high in his window. He is alone up here, like me in a way, and a tiny part of me will miss him when he is gone.

I wonder what will happen when the time comes for the window washers to pass by with their squeegees, to clean away the dust and grime. There won’t be any web left for him when they’re through. There won’t be anywhere for him to hide that day.

He is moving again, frantic movements that I haven’t seen before. Perhaps he has finally caught something, or maybe the wind is trying to bring him down from his high-rise. He is all over the place, and his web is bouncing quite violently.

And now he’s gone. He has disappeared from my view, and I don’t think he’ll be coming back.
My window is really too high up for a spider to be hiding, maybe its time he found a new home.

Another time, Another world

Do you remember our childhood days? The games we used to play, when our imaginations ran wild?

Remember the times when we would lose ourselves in the forest. Going in deeper and deeper, the trees growing taller and taller. The bushes were so green, and they just kept getting thicker. We found a vine hanging from a high up branch and we swung back and forth for hours, playing jungle warriors and crying out like Tarzan. We raced up and down the climbing trees, always trying to do better then the other. We walked barefoot in the mossy areas, feeling the coolness and softness squish beneath our toes.

Remember swimming in the pool for hours on end, playing mermaids and undersea explorers. Our fingers and toes would be wrinkled beyond belief, but it didn’t matter, because there was still some light, and we hadn’t been called in for dinner or bed just yet. Practising our hand stands and somersaults until our noses and eyes burnt from the chlorine and we were dizzy beyond belief. Jumping off the diving board in every form imaginable, our ears plugged with water, our lungs would ache from the contests to see who could hold their breath the longest.

What about the day we spent in the hayfield? The plough had just come through and the scent of the freshly cut hay was still fresh in the air. They hadn’t come to collect the hay barrels yet, instead, they had left them all lined up in rows by the side of the field. We climbed up on them, and we ran and jumped and raced from barrel to barrel, playing tag and hopscotch and whatever else we could imagine. It didn’t matter how rough the hay was, or how scratched we got when we slipped in between the barrels; we were once again lost in our own little world.

I miss that world. I miss the way we were and the times we shared. That world is gone now, and it’s been gone for a long time. I’m afraid we don’t know how to find our way back again. I’m afraid we will never be able to find a way back.

We have our own separate worlds now, and although they are just a few feet away, they may as well be miles apart. It’s not by choice, I don’t think. It’s just a part of our growing up.

Once and a while, we find a hidden path into each others world, but it only lasts a short time, and then the path closes us off once more.


Can you remember when we used to stand in the backyard and spin and spin and spin until we fell down? And then we would lie there, staring up at a swirling sky, fluffy white clouds going around and around amidst the bright blue.

Remember how we would giggle and our hearts would race, our breath would quicken, but it didn't matter, because as soon as the world stopped spinning, we were on our feet again, going around and around, faster then before, longer then before, our heads thrown back in laughter, anything to get that sensation back.

I remember.

I'll always remember, and sometimes late at night, I slip out into the back yard and I spin. I spin and spin. Faster and faster, until my legs won't hold me up any longer and I fall down. I lay back and watch as the starry nights sky becomes a blur of tiny swirling white dots in a black abyss. And when the swirling stops, I’m on my feet, spinning once again, trying to get that sensation back again.

I remember. I will always remember.

Surprise!

Welcome to my Blog. Surprised? I bet you are.

So you might be wondering, Why? Of all the nonsensical things I could be doing with my time, have I decided to start my own Blog. Well, to be completely honest, I don’t really have a good reason. The truth, I am obsessed with Google! And, when I found out about Google Blogger well I just had to make one for my very own.

It took me a while to do it. I’ve had one for months, but I just couldn’t bring myself to share it with the world. It was like my little secret, and I was afraid that people would trample all over it with all their “Negative Energy”. But over a year and half later, I finally said to Hell with it, and here I am, a Blogger. If you could see how excited I am right now, you would be ashamed.

For those of you who don’t already know me, allow me to introduce myself.I am a self-proclaimed “Shy Girl” with dreams of one day writing a New York Times Bestseller. I’m one of those people who write and write, but are afraid that no one will like my writing, so I throw it all away, or delete it.

Basically, that’s the real reason I’ve started this Blog. It’s like a person who is afraid of heights, and then decides to go Sky Diving. I’m afraid of criticism, so I am putting myself out there for all of you to trample on. Feel free to overload me with all you negative (and hopefully positive) comments on whatever I end up writing here. It might bruise my ego, but in the long run, it will help me out.

So there you have it, Me. Hopefully I’ve sparked your interest, or appealed to your curiosity somehow, and maybe you’ll come back sometime.

And in the famous last words of the King himself, Elvis Presley…"I hope I haven't bored you."