Worm Massacre

My friend Jodi and I have been walking around our neighborhood most mornings. We chat.  We laugh.  We commiserate.  But today? We saved lives.

From yesterday into the overnight last night, we had a very heavy rain.  So heavy, in fact, that the rain flooded the worms from their earthy little homes and pushed them mercilessly onto the streets.  There were thousands of worms on the streets.  Some were smashed and some were already dried up, but many were waving their little heads at us, signaling, “Help us, kind ladies!” with their sweet little noggins.

First we walked carefully (and Jodi was pushing a stroller, so she drove carefully too).  Then we gave up on that because the street was littered with them.  After a few minutes, I admitted to Jodi that I really felt terrible about the worms, blindly writhing in agony on the macadam. 

She felt bad too.  We decided to save them.

That’s right.  We picked up the worms and threw them back in the grass.

We are heroes, people.

Jodi wanted to name them.  I drew the line there, and said we mustn’t get too attached to them.

But secretly, I named this one Mr. Longfellow.

Sometimes when you are busy saving lives, you become covered in gore and carnage.

                                         Jodi’s sneaker                                                                                                                                  Stroller wheel

Jodi sent me this one after she got home…seriously, how did the worms get up on her stroller? 

I can’t help but think some of them leaped onto the stroller in a Hail Mary move to save their lives. 

After our walk, Jodi and I headed to our own houses with mixed feelings.  Happy that we had saved so many lives that day, but sad that so many lost souls were beyond help, and also maybe a little skeeved out at the slightly gummy, sticky feeling our fingers had taken on.

Farewell, good friend with the kind heart and gummy sticky fingers.  I’ll see you tomorrow.