The Worms Were Out!

After every rainfall, greenery in the city seems more abundant, livelier, glistening with lushness. All the trees and bush and flowers and plants and weeds stand taller, as if in full bloom. I'm good with that. But I swear the vines in our backyard stretch their tenacles taller and straighter into the sky. Scary. The leaves on our Maple tree are larger today than yesterday. And so too are the worms. I'm not good with that.

Because I've been gardening, I've come across many worms in the last while. They creep me out, all slimy, wet, shiny and mottled, as if you're looking at someone's intestine writhing and curling about on the ground. Every time I move a pot or a stone, I see a worm under. My stomach does a little flip and I put soil over it to let it slither back into the earth. I make allowances for them being there because they are in the garden.

But I hate walking down the concrete sidewalk and having to hop over giant worms laying about. How did they get on the concrete where they don't belong? When I see one on the sidewalk - no, not one, they are usually in clusters. Are they party worms? - fear and anger take over me. Fear because they are slimy, slithery, wet, ugly and disgusting. I fear they would creep into my ear and eat my brain. Or I accidentally inhale one and it gets stuck in my sinuses. I can't eat when there's a worm nearby. But anger? I feel the sidewalk is my space. I leave the garden to them, they should leave the sidewalk to me.

They are the only creatures I see lying in the middle of the road and I see a car coming and I don't even try to get them out of the way. In fact, a gladness comes over me that another one got squished. So unbuddhist of me.