I sat bored surrounded by kids. I was holding my cream cheese ham sandwich. I took a bite in, the taste and texture was fantastic. It was a delicious lunch.

I was surrounded by kids. My kids. They were part of my group. I was a summer camp counselor, and they were my campers.

We were in the middle of a tennis court. The sun was burning hot. We sat in a tree’s shade. We were all snuggled in the shade, avoiding the summer heat.

“Everyone remember to drink water,” I reminded. It was absolutely important for them to drink water. Otherwise they wouldn’t last a second playing tennis in the hot sun.

Besides my group was another camp group. I was in charge of the kids of ages eight to eleven, and he the ages of twelve to fourteen. We had it all figured. I heard him echo my water reminder..

At the periphery of my vision I spotted a moving object. I mindlessly stared at it. My eyes slowly focused on it. It was a spider.

I was once afraid of spiders. But then something happened.

….

My dad is what you would call mysterious, and he wasn’t bluffing. He was special, or he defined what special was to me. He was super smart, had the iq of a scientist. And was a computer programmer, and entrepreneured.

When I was little and really mad. I would run into my room and lock it. I was usually mad at my mom. My mom was insensitive. She could never see the world as I saw. And she parented me in hopes she will one day change me to see her world. I still can’t after all this time.

My mom was a fool. She defined what a fool was.

……….

It was cruel to think these thoughts. Hey this story was never meant to be about my parents. It was supposed to be about a spider.

Where was I. Right, I was afraid of spiders, but then I wasn't.

My mom would scream, scream, and bash a spider as hard as she could. Whenever I saw a spider, I would run to my mom and scream, “Spider!”

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Now, my dad did it differently. One day he saw me screaming, “spider!” He gave me a strange look. It was a look he started giving me early on. My dad was very experienced in life. And I always felt he brought me to his world whenever he looked at me like that.

He walked to the spider and kneeled down, he gently called me over. He said, “Its just spider.” I quivered behind him.

He told me a story of a game he played. He would find a spider, and take apart a single spider leg at a time like a flower bud until there was no leg. He grabbed the spider and played out the story. I was mystified. I was no longer afraid of spiders that day.

Well, that’s not exactly how it went. The next day the memory vanished and life went on. I forgot the spider and the game my dad played.

Years go on. My hair grows, and then I cut. My arms can reach further. My punches can hurt harder. My body grew, but my mind was the same. I was slow to learn things were not the same.

A punch when I was five can now do a bit of hurtin. I sometimes still don’t know what I am.

….

When I first started working at a summer camp, it was my first week, I was in charge of my first group of kids. We sat at the gym which acted as our dinner and play room. I was watching over my group along with the rest of the counselors. We were taking a break to eat lunch. I noticed a group of boys screaming in excitement at the side. My curiosity was piqued.

I walked over. I passed kid after kid. Nodding along until I arrived at my destination. The kids were screaming at a spider.

An idea possessed me, a story could be made. “What are you boys up to?” All the kids start laughing and pointing at the spider. Their words jumbled out.

I got down. And my arms moved on their own. My thumb and pointing finger snapped onto the spider. It was bizarre. But an old memory flashed. And I understood. It was just a spider. It was held between my fingers, so weak and powerless.

A bug was never meant to be held like this. It was not part of their nature and history. The usual story goes like this, a spider is held by a creature, it dies.

All the kids were asking how I was holding the spider. I faced them the same eye my dad once faced me. And spoke the same words my dad told me. It was not me that was talking. It was an idea possessing my body, and giving in for a mission.

That day spiders were no longer spiders. I ripped apart their fabric and saw through their material. I knew their secret. There was no longer a spider secret.

…

Then whenever an opportunity came, I would share the idea of spiders that possessed me. It was a natural thing. The very next week, with a new group of kids.

We were all standing outside on the soccer field. One of the older kids was running away from his friend. A fellow counselor and I walked over to take a look at what was happening. The friend was holding a spider.

I asked him to pass me the spider. It felt so small in my hands. Yet to the kid who was running, it was a big monster chasing him down. Kids started forming a circle around us. All the kids had a face of wonder. My attitude sparked on to them.

Words came out my mouth. It was so easy to form the words, because I all of it was true. “It's just a spider.” I chose a kid, “Come here.” My fellow counselor did not have the same spark as the kids, he was glancing at me a strange eye and made sure to keep his distance.

The kid walked over. “It’s so small. Look at it, it can’t do anything. And before their eyes, I started to rip one leg apart, then the next leg, until there was no leg. “It can’t feel anything.” A kid's voice reflected, “anything?”

I threw the spider into the air. The wind carried it away. Everyone dispersed, my fellow counselor was still lookink at me wierd, “That was odd.” I apologetically smiled, and just nodded along.

The next day, one of the kids brought over a spider and then ran off.

…

Sometimes I would have a group of kids for two weeks and not do the spider stunt.

…….

I stared mindlessly, a whisper voiced, “And the itsy bitsy spider.”