Love Letter
Dear Tick,
Every memory I have of you is unpleasant. Aesthetically, you are unpleasant. Everything about you is unpleasant. U.N.P.L.E.A.S.A.N.T.
You are the cause of jitters. Of fear. Discomfort. Why do you exist? I can’t seem to see the positive side.
Surely, some other creature can be the main dietary supplement to the poor, ugly opossum. Wait a minute... Are opossums ugly because they dine on you? Maybe if opposums ate dragon flies or butterflies, they would be more handsome like their nighttime bandit counterparts, the racoon.
What else do you do, Tick? Supposedly you pollinate blueberry bushes. I’m sure the bees would be happy to take this over for you.
So, beyond your physical responsibilities, that clearly can be sloughed off on others, like, why are you here? I really can’t tell.
Every memory I have of you is a bad one.
That one time you hung to my armpit and I FREAKED out, ripping you from my armpit flesh, throwing you against the wall and watching you fall into the brown carpet next to my bed, realizing I would never get the satisfaction of watching you spiral in the toilet bowl. Instead, I would lay sleepless for nights on end awaiting your revenge.
Or what about that time my Lyme’s-disease-dying friend and I were checking a watering hole for pig tracks? Walking back to the car, there were a thousand of you climbing up my jeans like little hyper-mobile black pepper dust particles?
Or that time you were yellow and plump, locked on to my horse's face? I had to do the walk of shame to have someone else pull you off, as I watched in agony and defeat.
The way you walk. The way you [don’t] talk. Your looks. I am at a complete loss in how to appreciate you. I sometimes want you to die and be done with it forever.
Here we go again - you have reminded me it is summer because you’ve just fallen off of somewhere on my body and gently plopped onto my car seat.
Now, you are climbing up my bathroom door with the same reminder.
I KNOW IT IS SUMMER. GO AWAY. No naps on the dry, yellow earth. I get it.
Yet…. Interesting... I did not know climbing doors was one of your talents.
I watch you for a while. I think this may be the first time I’ve ever really been fascinated by you. Other than how resistantly flat you get before you will actually die under the butt of my pencil.
No special Tick-induced jitters this time. That’s a first.
Spirit [intuition] tells me you’re not here for a latch, or a scare. Why are you here, then? Spirit tells me you’re a messenger.
Can someone else deliver?
Guess not.
OK Tick - even my magical books that are supposed to translate animal messages for me don’t like you. Google - Hello!
Lesson 1 from Tick - You are able to decipher messages outside of the magical books. Attachment & resourcefulness.
The irony of those two words is not lost on me. And I am rather proud of myself for having come to those before beginning my cyber search for you. So far, so pleased, Tick. What else you got?
First search for Tick > WOW that is a lot of hate. I almost feel bad for you, Tick.
Who wrote this? A spiritual practitioner? No way. Suddenly, I feel bad for her students.
Do I write a comment in response? Teachers are supposed to see both sides of a coin… And make students find the positive via hints or sage wisdom.
I decide to leave it.
Next search for Tick > Extremely adept at going for it without knowing what it is at that moment. A risk taker. Something big is coming, jump at it. Stay positive! Even the smallest of doubts can bring down a giant. Ah, patience and risk taking.
So, Tick. You do have some use. You have taught me many things in our 2 encounters over the last 10 days.
I appreciate that you can do this while keeping your chompers to yourself.
With Love,
DW
Hi, Friend.