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An Open Letter to the (Late) Bug From My Garage

Dear Bug From My Garage,

I feel I owe you a small apology. I cannot help but feel your death could have been avoided. We met so briefly as you were scampering down the driveway. I misunderstood that look in your eyes to be a look of excitement but I now realize it must have been a look of fear. In hindsight, being chased down the driveway by three preschoolers must have been terrifying for a little guy like you. You had no way to know they didn’t mean any harm.

You need to know they had the best of intentions for you. You should have seen them carefully choosing which bucket to make your new home. They searched the yard for the perfect items to fill it with. The sticks and dirt were meant to provide you comfort and remind you of your natural environment. I hope you were able to find some relaxation during those first few moments in the bucket.

Which brings us to the incident with the bubbles. I must confess, I was otherwise occupied mowing the lawn and did not see my children pour the bubbles into your new home. That must have been terrifying for you. Please know they meant no harm. See, we recently lost our only pet, a goldfish. You can see why it was only natural for them to assume that all household pets thrived in a water environment. Maybe if I had only let them get a dog, you would still be with us. I can vouch for these kids that they aren’t the magnifying-holding ant-burning type. They don’t seek out to harm insects. They only meant the best.

Please know you did not die in vain. For the fifteen or so minutes that you were a member of our family, all was right in the world. The joy you brought to them temporarily extinguished all animosity they usually hold for each other. There was no fighting, no hitting and no yelling, just a mutual love for a new pet. You could argue I should have seen the writing on the wall. As their mother, I should have known they would not know how to properly care for a beetle. But please see it from my perspective. Do you know how infrequent these moments of unity are?

You should also know your calls of distress did not go unnoticed. Moments after your passing, a beetle friend of yours managed to fly under my sunglasses and wreak havoc on my face. In your memory, instead of squishing him, I merely flung him into the yard. I cannot confirm nor deny whether he survived the blades of the lawn mower. But that can hardly be blamed on me if he didn’t.

In conclusion I’d like to thank you for the memories. I’m sure my kids have already forgotten about you, which became evident about an hour later when they captured a worm, but I will always hold a special place for you in my heart. Thank you for providing 15 minutes of peace in my otherwise crazy day.

A Grateful Mom


Dear 16-year-old Me | Susan's 140 Plus

[...] write letters on this blog a lot. I’ve written one to the woman on the escalator, to the bug from my garage, to the class of 2013, to my music teacher, and even a letter to future me. So when I heard about [...]