Ode To An Arachnid In My Shower
Six days ago we arrived in Ashland Oregon to wile away the new bird days of winter in a land where locals stroll the history woven store fronts modestly attired against the cold.
The cottage we call home is filled with images of Tibet. A garment once worn by a woman from that frosty land hangs on the wall amidst the faces that stare back at me reminding me that time moves even more slowly there than here in the Pacific Northwest, or as the locals call it, “PNW.”
The first shower I took contained that old familiar feeling of, “I’m not familiar with this shower and now I’m naked…”
As I stepped inside, I leaned back to feel the flow of warm water baptize my oily strands. As my head fell back, I opened my eyes and realized I was not alone. At the top of the stall across from the water a spider of considerable size rested and watched the strange ritual of a human bathing.
For a moment I considered my options. I could get out and try to capture her, but she was very high up. I could splash her until she fell from her post and down the drain, or… I could do nothing.
I chose the latter.
Now this spider and I have taken showers together for the past six days, and each time I enter the stall I look for her. A part of me wishes she would just go away and another part of me knows that I would be dismayed if she did. It is as though she has become a meditation of sorts. She is a focal point. She keeps me alert.
A couple of times, she has lowered herself to get a closer look and I send a very gentle flick of water which sends her retreating back to her corner.
I think about her. What does she eat up there? Is she waiting out the cold wet winter? Will she last until the landscape dries or will she spend the last of her days up there?
I am grateful to her for the odd gift she has given me and I hope to see her again tomorrow.