Satan the Spider

I wrote this a while back for a young friend who had been in a skirmish with a possum and a baseball bat. Thought you might enjoy.



I've heard it said that courage is not the absence of fear, but doing what is right in the presence of it. Fear is a force that freezes you. You either stand there paralyzed, turn and leave, or continue on as it envelopes you. I fear heights, cows, and bad haircuts. I've had to face each one, whether it was driving, white-knuckled over a high bridge, or by having to cross a pasture full of black Angus thugs while they chewed and stared...I have an appointment Friday for my hair.

My father had a real fear of spiders. He knew that they were really out to get us. Their legs, those beady eyes (however many there are), and the venom- filled, needle like fangs could bring forth a shudder at the very thought. The heebie jeebies. Daddy was always experiencing close calls with the arachnid world. They were all either brown recluses or black widows. And they were aggressive. They could and would charge at you with no notice. Interestingly, though my dad has passed on, my fifteen year old son and my eleven year old daughter have inherited the spider phobia. I'm talking about people who will bail from a moving vehicle if a spider is seen; people who won't sleep in their own beds for a month if a spider somehow makes it passed the pesticides. Freaks, if you will. These are two of my five children.

It was the evening before my oldest son's high school graduation. The sun was about to set, and we were in the back yard. My mom was visiting from Louisiana in order to attend the festivities. We were about to go inside when we heard a shriek. The commotion was coming from the side of the house. I ran over, and being a mother, I expected blood or maybe a broken bone. Then I saw him. He was a very large brown spider, and he was just lurking. Menacingly. His legs were long and muscular. I say "he" because the kids had already named him. His name was Satan.

I wanted to leave Satan alone. Why invite trouble? Don't we have enough? His very name suggested that things could get out of hand. But "things" were already in motion. Honey, the before mentioned eleven year old, had been in the house and had produced one of those little bug cages. This was a big opportunity for her. The next day at school was Show and Tell, and with Satan in a cage....let's just say her social status would have been secure for a good...week. The only person with enough guts to go near Satan was no one in my family. My son's friend, Trey, was all over it. He brushed his fingers at the creature, and he (Satan) spread his eight fleshy legs and, umbrella-like, floated to the ground. Trey had him in the cage in no time. It was done. We unanimously decided that Satan stay outside on the porch. Because he would be happier there.

The next morning arrived with its usual activities. My mom, Maw Maw Kay to my children, was going to play golf with Evan and Isabelle. Andrew and Honey were coming to school with me. We were all hungry and decided to go to a nearby fast food restaurant for some biscuits. We were loading golf bags into the car when Honey made a disturbing discovery. Satan had evidently not made it through the night. He lay on his back; his once strong legs, crumpled. We looked on solemnly for a moment. Honey broke the silence and said, "Oh well, I'm bringing him anyway!" OK, load up everybody!

To be continued with the dramatic conclusion....