I grew up in Florida. As a kid, I’d look down into the inverted cone-shaped holes of doodlebugs. Sometimes I gently poked pine needles into the bottom of the funnel they left, hoping one would come out so I could see it. That never happened. I imagined them to be cuter than ladybugs—adorable even. I mean, a doodlebug had to be adorable. Besides, it left those cute little holes in the sand. After a while, I assumed Billy and Ray had made up all that doodlebug lore as a joke on me. I decided that, when I wasn’t looking, they were using tiny sticks to make those cute little funnel-shaped holes.
This morning, when I realized it was already December 18th, I knew that—of late—days are too much like those elusive doodlebugs. If you’re not paying close enough attention (aka living in the present) days just come and go and you don’t even see them long enough to know whether they’re cuter
than ladybugs or not.
The truth is: Doodlebugs are also called antlions. They’re not cute—not at all. And they’re stuck in that scary-looking body for about two years. But after that, they get to look like a damselfly.
And they get to fly.
Meanwhile, I’m looking at the calendar going, “Wasn’t it just January?”
We might never get to fly like the doodlebug eventually does, but we do get to read. And reading can tell us what it must feel like to fly.
There are a couple of short stories I’d like to share with you. Even though the days seem to disappear, I hope you can find a few peaceful moments to enjoy one or both of these stories.
Thank you for supporting me as a writer.
Baking Cookies and The Healing Thread
Be well.
I’ll keep writing.
Please keep reading.
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