I had just turned off the ignition and was leaning back in the driver’s seat waiting for Sarah to arrive when a furtive moment on the passenger side caught my eye.
I glanced over. And froze.
It was a cockroach, an insect roughly the size of a petite water buffalo.
My muted squeak morphed into a full-fledged “Eeeeek” as I shuddered and involuntarily flailed my arms which is my default reaction whenever I see any kind of creature that creeps or crawls.
May I just say right now that I am not a fan of cockroaches. In fact, it could even be said that I am afraid of them. However, the only thing I hate worse than dealing with a cockroach is not dealing with a cockroach and knowing it is still alive. Somewhere. Near me.
And so in order to be certain that this cockroach was about to experience the last day of his existence, I flung myself out of the front seat and went screeching around to the other side of the car, whipping the passenger door open and preparing myself for war.
Sadly, by the time I arrived at yon battlefront, the cockroach had already done what every self-respecting cockroach is trained from birth to do. He had scuttled away and disappeared.
A cockroach loose and unfindable in my car? This was not good. Not good at all.
I pondered my options. I could refuse to drive home. I could call an exterminator. I could burn the car to the ground. But regardless of what option I chose, my mission was clear: I had to get that bug dispatched to his own personal version of the happy hereafter.
But first I had to find him.
I began to methodically take all my belongings out of the car-—a pillow, a blanket, a small cooler, my purse, a CD case—hoping that the roach might be underneath something.
He was not.
As my search became increasingly more frenzied, I even bent over and looked under all the seats, peering fervently into all the crevices where a cockroach might be wont to hide. This maneuver, of course, required me to stick my unsightly, unsmall rear straight into the air which should have been enough to cause Mr. Cockroach to keel over from horror at the very sight. Alas, it didn’t work
He was hidden away. Chortling. Scheming. Planning his next move.
By this point in the process, I had a true dilemma on my hands. Sarah, who had been away at camp, was due to arrive any minute at our designated pick up spot. Sarah is not fond of cockroaches either; in fact, (like her mom), she is afraid of them. And if she knew that she was going to have to spend the next three hours trapped in a car with one, she would most decidedly be underjoyed.
After giving the situation some though, I decided the best course of action would just be to not mention it. I would just do my Mommy Thing which, as all moms know, means protecting one’s child from any possible unpleasantness. My only hope was that Sir Roach would cooperate with my plan and remain hidden for the whole trip.
When Sarah finally arrived, I gave her a welcoming hug before she settled herself into the backseat with her pillow, blanket and laptop. Two hours of travel passed. All was well. The weather was gorgeous. We chatted cheerily. There was nary a cockroach to be seen. I allowed myself to relax one little, teeny, tiny bit and told myself that maybe we would make it home without incident.
But it was not to be.
We stopped for a quick dinner and were just pulling back onto the road when to my consternation, I saw that Sir Roach was stalking across the windshield directly in front of me.
And as much as I hate to admit it, and as hard I tried not to–I did flail. And I did screech just a little. It seems as though those reactions are pretty much hardwired into me and no amount of hyper vigilance can short-circuit them.
Thankfully though, I was able to keep from jerking the car around too much as I said in a calm but urgent voice, “Sarah, honey, do you have any napkins back there?”
She must have known by my tone that this was not the time to engage in idle conversations about odd napkin requests because she quickly handed some forward. I maneuvered the car to the side of the road, wadded up the napkins and took a quick swipe in the direction of the roach. I very efficiently missed him altogether.
He dropped out of sight and went scuttling off, I’m assuming to set up a new area of lurkdom somewhere down in the vicinity of my sandaled feet. And my bare legs.
Eeek.
By this time it was obvious to Sarah that there was A Situation afoot, a situation that could be covered up no longer. And so I confessed to her what was going on, adding that I hadn’t mentioned it to her before because I didn’t want her to get stressed over it.
Much to my surprise, Sarah took this rather alarming news in an impressively non-panicked manner. There was a cockroach of humongous proportions somewhere in the car that could crawl on either one of us at any moment?
Well, fine. We would just have to cope with it, now wouldn’t we?
Marveling at her calm, I pulled out on the road again. By mutual agreement, we had decided to leave the back seat light on so that we wouldn’t feel quite so vulnerable. A cockroach attack by night is never any fun for the attackees and I can’t imagine it providing much merriment for the cockroach either.
I had only gotten about ten minutes down the road when I heard a muffled shriek from the back seat which could only mean one thing. Sir Roach had reemerged.
He had perched himself on top of the pillow leaning against up the window which meant that for a few breathless seconds, he and Sarah were eye to eye. But not for long. Thinking quickly, Sarah whipped off her sandal and attempted to give him a good pounding. Sadly though, he evaded the attack and darted back into the darkness.
Gone. Again.
By this point in the day, I was over it. I’d had it. I was bone weary and dog tired and to make things even worse, we were about to enter a lonely, deserted stretch of road that the locals call Alligator Alley. It consists of fifty miles of non-civilization–just road, trees, swamps, and fields populated by bear, deer, foxes, snakes, and of course, alligators.
I couldn’t help but giggle semi-hysterically to myself at the thought of the drive ahead. I had just spent the last two hours worrying about an in-house cockroach and now I was about to enter an area populated by even more scary creatures? What was next? Would we be set upon by rabid turtles?
I sobered up pretty quickly though when I remembered all the stories I’d heard about people driving this stretch of road at dusk and having deer appear out of nowhere and run across the road in front of them. What would I do if a deer jumped out in front of me at the very same time our resident cockroach decided to creep across my bare calf?
Would my tired brain and overwrought nerves be able to hold steady without a major jerking of the wheel and an inadvertent dive into the ditch? Could I endure fifty more miles of this trip through the darkness while waiting to be assaulted by a cockroach that even at that very moment was stalking my every move?
I felt my nerves tighten and my muscles clench as I held on to the steering wheel with way more force than was absolutely necessary. Although I tried to make light of the situation with Sarah, I don’t think I was fooling her. She knew I’d had a long day and she knew I was worn out.
As we left civilization behind and entered that lonesome stretch of critters and pine trees, my nerves were stretched so tight that when I heard Sarah say something from behind me, I jumped just a little until it occurred to my weary brain that she was not talking in frantic “I have spied a cockroach” mode. No. She was talking in a calm voice. Reassuring. Soothing.
And just what was she talking about?
Well, out of the blue and for no reason that I could discern at the moment, Sarah started telling me stories. They were stories she had heard over the weekend from the camp speaker—interesting, funny, and moving tales that were fascinating to listen to. As I drove on through the night, I found myself focusing so intently on her voice that I forgot for a while my fatigue and stress and the Lurking of the Giant Cockroach.
And with her voice filling the darkness, it really didn’t seem like very long at all before we saw the first lights of civilization ahead of us and realized we were almost home. As I let up on the accelerator I released a huge sigh and said, “Wow, Sarah, those stories sure made the time go by fast. I hardly even thought about that cockroach at all!”
Sarah was quiet for a moment and then she quietly said, “I know, Mom. That’s why I decided to tell them to you. I wanted to help you to relax and not be so anxious.”
I was amazed. And touched.
And then I found my mind jumping backward eleven years to a certain day when Sarah was in the hospital undergoing yet another unpleasant procedure during her cancer treatment. I distinctly remember her fastening her frantic eyes on my face and saying, “Tell me a story, Mommy. Tell me a story!”
And so I did. I rustled through my memory for any story I could possibly think of and when I ran out of those stories, I just started making them up from scratch.
I talked her through her fear, through her anxiety, and when the procedure was over, I saw with great satisfaction that her sweet face was calm and at peace.
And now? Eleven years later?
The tides had turned.The generations had shifted.The little girl had become a grown up woman.
Sensing stress and fatigue in her story-telling mama, Sarah brought out the healing tools she knew so well, healing tools that she and I both love so much—words and stories.
And late on that wearying autumn evening, Sarah displayed the presence of mind, the maturity of character, and the richness of spirit to put aside her own fears and gently talk me down the road . . . through the darkness . . . home.
Blech! I hate those things, too. And I know exactly what you mean about the ones that get away. We visited my in-laws in Hawaii the year we got married and I met my first cockroach IN THE CAR, as I was driving! I pulled over quickly and jumped out of the car, flailing and screaming, “What on earth was that???” (I probably didn’t use such nice language.) We didn’t have roaches in Washington state, that I ever saw anyway. Now I live in Alabama and I still hate those quick, sneaky little creatures. I can see no redeeming qualities whatsoever. They don’t even kill other bugs! Anyway, glad you made it home and found and destroyed the culprit. And how amazing that Sarah had the sense to calm you with her stories. My daughter is worse than I am with bugs and would have been no help whatsoever. At least we probably would have laughed a lot. 🙂
Gayle,
Yes, one’s first official meeting with a cockroach is always a moment to be remembered. 🙂 Glad you and your daughter would have gotten a good laugh about a roach trapped in your car. It’s either laugh or cry, right? (Or either get hysterical!)
We live in a wooded area here in NJ and have issues with spiders. I swear they are the size of small dogs!!!! They seem to like my car for some reason. I now drive with an old flip flop and a roll of paper towels in my reach at all times. I know the exact Eek and flail you speak of!!! Glad you got him.
Anonymous,
Oh dear, the size of spiders that size . . . well, I can’t even go there. Ick.
I wish I had followed your example and kept a shoe beside me in the car last week. Of course flailing and driving don’t mix very well but desperate time call for desperate measures. 🙂
I just now realized I never put in my name!! I’m Laurie in NJ and have been following Sarah’s story since her Caringbridge days and your blog forever!!!
Laurie,
Always nice to put a name with a comment. 🙂 Thanks for being a “forever” follower!
You two are amazing and great story tellers. Now that I am so anxious…….tell me a story!!!! I too am not a roach
lover….once in Florida I slipped a shoe on and guess what was inside the shoe. Love your blog.
Connie,
A roach in a shoe? Not so fun. So glad you love the blog! 🙂
proud of you brave, story-telling ladies. well done!
Thanks, Deb. I think we have just about recovered from the trauma of that day.
“And a child shall lead them…”
Becky, this was one of your all-time best stories! Especially since we have had a few unpleasant encounters with those little armored devils lately.
Before I forget it —> MRS. PAM, how do we put the Binaca spray mouthwash to use? (I mean, it never occurred to me that cockroaches have bad breath! But I guess it makes sense…) 😉
Lucy was in Maryland this weekend, visiting her BFF (since 1953.)
About ten p.m. on Saturday night, I sent the following text to Miss Lucy: “Hearth. Object. Moving. Roach! BIG! Shoe. Off. WHAP. Wiggling. WHAP!! Dead. Yuk.”
Fred & Lucy 😉
Fred,
I was wondering the same thing about the Binaca.
Although I loved your brief and clever message to Lucy, Steve has strict instructions not to even TELL me if he sees a bug and kills it. I do NOT want to know! 🙂
I figured that the binaca would either drown or overcome the cockroach… but remedying his bad breath might be a bonus, too.
I once killed a HUGE (probably a tarantula) spider with about a half a can
of shaving cream. that guy was a goner. probably didn’t need that much, but I was panicked, and the more I sprayed, the surer I was that he couldn’t survive.
Mrs. Pam,
I heard that spraying hairspray at a wasp would paralyze it so it couldn’t fly. I guess shaving cream would be a bit hard for a bug to survive, too! Good thing we have health and beauty products in our lives, right? 🙂
Oh wow! what a story! Thanks for the laugh, by the way 😉 And Sarah, she is so amazing. I hope I have a kid as wise as her, that’s for sure.
Renee,
Yeah, she’s a good kid, that’s for sure. (Or may I should start saying a good grown up!)
Okay, that was supposed to say “SIGH” of relief. Got so worked up about the creepy roach and couldn’t type.
Oh my God, nothing strikes fear into me more than a cockroach! I am literally phobic about them, and will burst into tears just knowing one is in a fifty-foot radius of me. I admire your courage, there is absolutely no way I could have gotten in the car knowing it was in there! I would have been on the roadside, curled in a fetal position, sucking my thumb! Both of you were braver than I’d ever be! I wouldn’t even be able to drive the car again until it was dead or out, because I would hit a semi-truck head on if it made an appearance while I was behind the wheel. I’m convinced that they come straight from the bowels of hell. Please tell us you got it out eventually!
I feel exactly the same way as you, Melissa! I would have found someone, preferably male, to come and find that roach and kill it before i could even get in the car. I never would have made it home.
Debbie, I don’t think anyone–male or female–could have found that thing. Bugs can be pretty sneaky when they want to be!
Melissa,
Sir Roach is very, totally, completely dead. We saw his corpse and his has been confirmed. 🙂
I will stay in Minnesota, no cockroaches here! 🙂
Kathy,
Yep, Minnesota is a great place to be. (I used to live there, Sarah was born there, and I have relative there so I love it!)
sweet Sarah… gotta love her!!!!
so here’s a plan for future protection: I use to have a pocket size spray Binaca mouthwash. If it is still available to would be perfect to keep in your car for any IE (Insect Emergency)
hope you are able to breathe ok in your car after the roach killing spraying.
Mrs. Pam,
After Steve sprayed, I did not get back in the car for a couple days.
Thanks for making me laugh. I understand the entire cockroach thing but reading it from someone else certainly made me laugh and for a Monday I definitely needed that. Thanks for Sharing and itsn’t it nice to know that our children do model what they are taught. Blessings for a great day!
Marjie,
Glad I was able to provide a smile for you! (Well, I guess it was Sir Roach and me, together!) 🙂
Yes, what Mary asked! How long does it take a cockroach to die of old age?
What a sweetie Sarah is!
Jan, I actually looked that up and a cockroach can live up to a year. Happy thought.
A fine post. Great fun. And inspiring.
Steve, thanks. You got to experience the story in person AND on the page.
You and Sarah have come full circle! Sarah is sooo wise beyond her years. She can thank that to a great upbringing. 🙂 You and Steve have done great! 🙂
Kristi,
You are so sweet–thank you!
That was pure joy to read. Sarah is wise beyond her years. I wish I had better words to describe how Sarah’s actions and love for you have touched me.
However, I must ask. Where is the roach?
Hi Mary. At Becky’s request I sprayed what seemed like a half a can of roach spray into the car. I found it dead the next day very dead. It was about an inch long and ugly.
of relief. R.I.P., ugly roach!
Steve,
An inch? That thing was three feet long, at LEAST!!
Mary,
The roach is very, very dead. Yay!