Disjointed Memoir: The itsy bitsy spider

Disjointed Memoir = posts with things that will be included in my imaginary memoir

I am standing on the front porch of our little red house in the mountains.

I am five?  I’ve just woken up from a nap and wandered outside to the too-bright light of day.

Things don’t look the way they should.  I look down at my white smocked shirt with the brown stitching and it looks like its under water.

Then I look down at my hand, and am frozen at the sight of a tiny white spider burrowing its way into my palm.

It hurts, and I can feel it working its way under my skin.

I remember trying to explain it to my dad, but when I showed him my palm, it was just my palm.  The hole was gone.

I remember that spider going in, but I don’t remember it coming out.  Even if it was a fever dream, I wonder how high a fever I need to watch it wiggle its way back out.

xoxo

AMV