Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 114


Coffee: Maxwell House Master Blend, Office Coffee

Still on the low, so I’ll stick to the most important thing I did today: I saved a worm.

Well, maybe it’s being generous to say I saved it. Had I not come along, or had I been someone else, the worm may very well have saved itself. But that’s the kind of thought that kills kindness, thinking ‘it doesn’t really matter what I do.’

Anyway, it was just before 7:00. I took my nightly walk. I’d made a big batch of pasta and felt good about myself. Most nights, I start going left from the apartment stairs, cross the creek, and circle around the pool. That’s exactly what I did tonight. When I got to the community garden, I saw something move. There was a bit of wet string on the ground, deep and purple, like those grape-flavored ice-pops your grandmother bought you. The purple thing was wiggling on the sidewalk. It couldn’t decide which way to go.

So I stooped down to look at this thing and saw the prettiest little worm I’ve seen in – oh, I don’t know, a week? a month? I see a lot of worms so it’s easy to forget about them. Anyhow, it was a worm. I watched it squirm left, right, and it’s tiny wet body was getting covered in grit. A sidewalk dries you out. A sidewalk’s man-made, abrasive, any skinned-knee knows that. I started to take out my phone to post a picture, but then I thought of those journalists that watch men die in war-time while getting a better shot. I didn’t like the comparison. Instead, I took a stick and offered it to the critter. With this new thing in front of it, the worm writhed around. I spent sixty seconds getting the thing comfortable, then I rolled it around the stick like spaghetti. Carefully, then, I set the worm on cool, dark soil.

That was my day.

Currently Reading: Queen, Suzanne Crain Miller

Support Relief for Family Suffering at the Border  – RAICES DONATION CAMPAIGN

I think we consider too much the luck of the early bird and not enough the bad luck of the early worm.

Franklin D. Roosevelt

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