As a child wandering in our enclosed backyard, each thing — a leaf, tiny twigs fallen from the trees, butterflies, ladybugs, a blade of grass and the yellow daisies all were a source of great fascination. I was like an explorer observing any going ons in my tiny kingdom.
I remember crouching down to a hole in the ground. To my eyes it looked gigantic, and beckoned me to explore. I was freshly scrubbed and attired by mother and admonished not to get dirty. Who remembered to keep clean? A childhood memory is so flimsy.
It was an anthill– a home to large black ants. I avidly watched the scurrying of busy ants as they went along their assigned duties given to them by their king or queen.
They paid me no attention. They may have wondered at the huge creature (me) in their midst. I poked a finger in the path of one ant. It promptly bit me, while two, three others joined in the fun. I cried at the intense pain as I tried to shake them off. I ran inside our house. Mother must have been annoyed at the dirt encrusted frock but didn’t say anything as she dried my tears.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.