Ants in the Kitchen by Valerie Halla

I have been duking it out with teeny ants streaming into my kitchen. They are everywhere there’s food. Either they find big plates of dirty dishes, loaves of bread, cubes of butter, dog treats, fruit or even the tiniest drop of food left out on the counters or floors, microscopic amounts, specks of a meal or minute pieces visible with the naked eye or closed eye or eye of the dog, any eye, but ants find it. I found ants in the bottom of my tea cup and in a pathway to the dog’s dish and along a winding trail to the trash. I’m fuming about ants but they’re there for a true reason: to have reality facing me gut level, true and real and like one of life’s challenges to gnaw at me and shake me up. It’s all good. I am actually welcoming these irritating insects into my home, arriving at the picnic blanket of my life.

So things have been tough lately. My husband of 53 years passed away last week and it was a balance of loss and relief. He’s not suffering any longer. He’s at peace as am I. He fought cancer and infections and pneumonia for about two years. A strange peace came over me and realization that this is right. I’m trusting the path we’re on. I don’t have to understand it. I’m still numb and raw but I’m getting through this with the help of my wonderful three adult children and family and friends. That’s meant so much to me.

A death of someone you’ve known, loved and lived with for 53 years is incredible. I’m still reliving memories which pop into my mind at the oddest times. I was at the grocery store recently with my sons and I picked up avocados but had no bag. As I wrestled with 5 avocados a lady in the produce section handed me a bag so I put them into the plastic bag thanking her, then I started to cry. She moved toward me as I quickly said my husband had just passed away. She didn’t hesitate; this complete stranger reached out and hugged me saying how sorry she was. That was a moment which touched me, quite lovely.

I’m also having this movie of all the good times and bad playing on my movie screen brain, some things I haven’t recalled in decades, recalling our two honeymoons, times we walked the dog or camped with the kids or rode bikes together or discussed books we had read or fought with one another. It’s a wonderful life, to copy a movie title. It is similar to a movie or television show whatever comes into my head, weird yet fun.

However, then I’m drawn back to true life by these irritating ants. I cannot put off their takeover of the kitchen. I have to fight back. Even worse, they give off an awful odor when they’re smashed. Another reminder of their power. I must deal with them.

So I say, “Thank you, ants. Thanks for bringing me down to earth. Reality can be sobering and good.“

I’m right where I need to be and I’m strong enough, rough enough and ready for the ants. I’m moving on with or without you.