The Kansas of my childhood was known for its scorching hot and humid summer days. Just when I felt I couldn’t take it anymore, a refreshing downpour pelted the earth, accompanied by some hailstones.
My grandmother was a good sport. She didn’t mind when my friend LeAnn and I entertained ourselves. We covered our heads, LeAnn with a metal bowl and I with a box to prance around in the storm. Her “ping, ping” and my “bop, bop” sounds punctuated our celebratory dance as ice balls and rain drops landed on our sheltered heads.
The outside landscape gleamed with rejuvenated plants looking fresh and green. The street gutters overflowed from the sudden rain and hail.
We made another fascinating discovery as our curiosity led us to investigate the flooded street. The water had brought up a swarming mass of earthworms. These undulating creatures further captivated us as another blessing from the rain. I overcame my skittish attitude toward any squirmy creature and touched one. It wasn’t long till we began handling them and observed their swirling patterns of movement and attempts to escape. We even tried to race them.
Our hearts filled with disappointment as Mam Mam (my grandmother) called us into the house for lunch. The earthy odor remained on our hands and the memory of their touch stayed strong as we went to wash up.
Before us on the dinner table sat a heaping bowl of my usual favorite dish–spaghetti. Mam Mam knew well my food preferences and felt sure she would bring delight to my taste buds with this treat.
LeAnn and I sat there glumly, sneaking peeks at each other over this calamity. I didn’t want to disappoint my grandmother, but try as I might, I could not down a single strand of the pasta on my plate. I knew absolutely as I stared at the dish that I saw those worm-like noodles move.
Playing with worms was one thing, but the thought of eating one. . . It wasn’t long before we excused ourselves and said we weren’t hungry. My grandmother scratched her head, wondering what happened to our appetites.
Years later while gardening in my own yard as an adult I again smelled that earthy odor as I turned the soil. Worms were now my friends helping to fertilize my vegetables and keep the soil rich. I didn’t have to touch them but their discovery gladdened my heart for my garden’s sake.
The humble worm only did its job, even though all those years ago it had served as entertainment for some little Kansas girls in all its squirmy glory.
Dianna
Sharing the Fruit of Maturity
