Ants on a Log

Balanced precariously as I tried to keep

My exuberant momentum from toppling it all…

Mom’s smiling eyes as she stuffed a napkin under my chin

“Careful with those. Take them outside. Share with your brother.”

Hoping Richie was too busy digging worms, I forced myself

Back to a slow trot, not wanting to draw attention

I aimed for the backyard picnic table

Ants on a log

Six logs to be shared

Three each

I wanted them all

Slender sticks of crisp celery

Slathered in crunchy Jiff peanut butter

Dotted with tiny red currants

Salty, peanut butter stuck to the roof of my mouth

Chomping cool, crisp celery

Juicy ants, making their way into my molars, bursting sweetness.

So much happening in my small mouth.

Fingers sticky, reaching for the next log

Keeping a furtive eye on Richie,

Wrangling wrigglers in the dirt

“Hey, you gotta share. Save me some…”

Busted

Grub gritty hands reaching for the plate.

“NOOOO!” Flinging the flimsy plate, fearing his filth.

“Moooommmm!!!! She won’t share,” he cried, mud-blackened tears melting down his face.

Picking up the fallen logs…

“Shhhh, Richie. It’s okay,” I mumbled, grabbing the hose.

“Wash your hands first. You can have the rest.”

Mother’s footsteps on the back porch.

“Everything okay out here?”

Sniffling and hiccupping, Richie nodded, wiping his snotty nose on his shirt.

Handing him a peanutty log, he gripped it and sank his teeth into its core.

Lip smacking and sucking gooey globs, he ate those logs - mite of earthworm and grime.

I envied him. His innocence. His love for sweets. His trust in me.

I enjoyed it as having eaten it myself.