spiders | Writer in the Garret

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Black widow spider perched upon a dew sodden web

I was about ten years old, and my brother was six. We’d been up late, can’t remember why, but we’d both landed in his room for the night. It was Saturday morning–no school!–and I was in a wonderful, dreamy state. I felt the mattress move as Mike got off the bed and shifted to my side. Some time later I heard the bedroom door creak and then Mike screamed, “Black widow!”

My eyes shot open as I jerked around. I looked up at the ceiling. There above me was a shiny black spider and it was riding a strand of web, dropping right toward me. I don’t remember if I screamed. Most likely I did. I hit the floor just as our dad got to the door. He dealt with the spider.

Thanks to a childhood spent outside, getting to know all kinds of creatures, I’ve never been particularly scared of spiders. The hopping ones, like wolf spiders, freak me out a little, though. And, of course, Charlotte’s Web cemented the likeability of spiders for all time. I’ve almost always gone out of my way to transport spiders found in the house to the front porch. I’ve made sure the kids do the same or come get me to carry them out. “Spiders are good luck,” I’ve taught them. “They eat bugs.” However, one of the scariest movies I’ve ever seen, one that had me watching it through my fingers, is “Arachnophobia.”