"The Ladybug Garden," by Isadora C.

It’s been 11 months. Exactly 11 months since the last time I saw my mother, before the cancer took her away from me and my dad. It came as a surprise when my mother died because when we left the hospital that day the doctors said she was doing well for a patient with stage three breast cancer. I can still remember my father violently shaking me awake, speeding to the hospital, and running through the maze of hallways clutching my hand at New York Presbyterian only to be too late. The doctors said she crashed suddenly and there was nothing they could do to save her. When she died my dad really took it hard. His entire world seemed to collapse around him and he was completely thrown off kilter by this traumatic event. That’s also why 6 months ago when he moved us from the chaotic big apple to live full time in our summer house in Vermont, I didn’t complain, at least not out loud.

I think my dad moved us up here because it was hard for him to live in a place with so many memories of my mom. This seemed kind of ironic to me because my mom originally bought this house and started the tradition of taking us here every summer. The house was a small and rustic two bedroom cabin that came with a front porch and swing. My mother never put much thought into the decoration indoors which made it feel like I was living in an airbnb. However, over the years my mother spent a lot of time working on her garden planting all kinds of flowers in the flower beds around the house, but it had been months since anybody was here to tend to them and they had all died. 

My mother loved everything outdoorsy whether it was fishing, hiking, or exploring our backyard. My mother loved nature. She always felt at one with the outdoors and claimed the wild was her “therapy” somewhere she could be truly free. I on the other hand have always hated the outdoors, un-like my mother I felt at home in the bustling city among the bright lights and busy traffic. I enjoyed taking the subway to school, hanging out with my friends at the mall, and eating fast food. The only reason my mother didn't force us to live in Vermont in the first place was because my parents' jobs were stationed in New York and according to my dad “it would be a hassle to move.”

Every summer my mother would try and drag me with her on her many outdoor adventures. One time when I was 11 she coaxed me out of bed at 5:00am to go on a “secret hike” my father wasn’t allowed to know about. We hiked all of Sugarbrush Mountain that day. Of course I complained the entire time. When my mother got so fed up with it she turned to me with her hands on her hips and a determined look on her face and said: “Come on now, I really want you to see the view at the top of the mountain. The sunrises up here are some of the best I’ve ever seen! I know you can do it, you're my daughter and I raised you to be strong. Now, are you gonna keep complain’n or are we gonna make it to the top of this mountain? And of course I stopped complaining, completely motivated by my mothers words and respond with an excited: “Let's do it!” Hearing my mother praise me like that made me feel like I was on top of the world, like I was sick and only my mother knew the cure. Despite us being so different she was my hero and the one person I trusted in this world completely. Looking back on it now, I complained about almost all of our excursions. I wish I hadn't.

 When I was being really difficult my mother would have to beg me just to step out of the house as I was completely disgusted and terrified by the prospect of interacting with nature. I wish I had done more of her stupid hikes and savored our time together even though it often involved getting bitten by multiple misquotes or sustaining sunburns so bad they would peel for days. Mom always used to say “If you're not getting hurt you're not having fun!” She was always embracing the mess and went through life planning as she went along. My mother was my best friend, my inspiration and she loved me but I think a small part of her wishes I was more like her and that’s a guilt I still carry with me.

A couple months ago when we first moved I was still in the denial stage of grief. I hadn’t actually come to terms with the fact that my mother was really gone, like she was just on a long vacation and would one day come home. So for the first few weeks my dad and I lived in a peaceful sorrow both dealing with our grief. Not a day went by where I didn’t think of my mother, the house wasn’t helping as I was constantly reminded of childhood memories growing up here and the woman I made those memories with.

 It took me a couple weeks to realize my father had mentally checked out completely leaving me to deal with the overwhelming loss alone. We lived like strangers in the same house, I would lay awake at night wondering how my dad could do this to me. Rip me away from my home and my friends so quickly after mom died. A fiery hatred for him began to brew. Didn’t he realize he wasn’t the only one grieving here? He had no right to string me along like this without even considering my feelings! To make things even worse he decided to homeschool me, leaving me even more miserable and isolated than I already felt. 

I miss who my dad was before my mothers death, gentle, kind, and always forgiving. He used to take an interest in my life, come to all my events, he used to be my number one supporter. But now he was only here physically mentally: he was distant and lived in a constant zoned out state. After a couple of weeks the rage subsided and I realized it was as pointless to hate my dad as it was to believe my mother was coming back. But It did comfort me to know there was somebody else experiencing the same soul crushing grief about my mom I was.

It’s not like I could have rebelled anyway considering I now lived in the most boring place on Earth. The town near our home in Vermont consisted of one main street that only stretched for about 7 miles. Main street housed many shops but only 5 were currently in business. One was the general store where me and my dad went grocery shopping, a women's clothing boutique that smelled like mildew and old leather, a real estate office nobody ever went into, a liquor store, and an old dinner that was clearly falling apart. All the other stores were abandoned, windows boarded up, and buildings deteriorating from years of neglect. My mother would always take me a couple towns over to do our shopping and that was always my favorite part of the trip. 

A couple towns over the stores were new and clean, every building had a fresh coat of paint, there were no cracks in the sidewalks and people would always smile and say hi when you walked by. My mother became well known around the area for her generosity to everyone and stories of her adventures. Every summer we’d come to visit the locals and would ask about our life in New York and me, always starting with the classic “You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” Normally I'd be annoyed by this but the sense of community here was refreshing and not one you often found in the city. But just like me our Main Street was stuck in the past and in desperate need of some help.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. I was walking down Main Street and like usual I was looking for something to do. Main Street was mostly deserted which was odd considering how nice the weather was but I don’t blame people for not wanting to spend their weekend here. I passed the general store and peered inside to see a teenage girl sitting at the cash register scrolling on her phone paying no attention to the small elderly woman trying to grab a box of cereal from the top shelf. After a couple of minutes the cashier finally got off her phone, saw the old lady struggling, rolled her eyes and went over to help. 

I wonder if the girl had ever experienced grief? I'm sure the old lady has. She's definitely seen more death and experienced more loss than me. I wondered how she did it. It takes a lot of strength to accept death and go on living like it never happened. Where did all that sadness she once felt go? Did it just disappear? How could I make my never ending sadness disappear? 

I continued my walk down Main Street still thinking about that old lady when suddenly a flash of red whizzed by me. Startled, I spinned around trying to catch a glimpse of whatever had just flown by. I looked around Main Street and it was still empty. I was officially losing my mind and imagining things. I kept walking before and noticed a little speck of red on a nearby bench. Upon closer examination I realized it was a ladybug, its wings a beautiful shade of crimson red almost perfectly symmetrical. Mom had told me ladybugs were always brightly colored to ward off predators, I don’t know how though because to me their bright colors only made them more enticing. It then hit me that I was admiring an insect, no matter how beautiful ladybugs were, what made them any different from any other insects I detested? I shuddered as images of dirty cockroaches and slimy centipedes entered my mind and began to walk away.

 I didn’t get far before the ladybug whizzed past again and I let out a loud gasp. I spun around to the streetlamp where the ladybug was now perched and huffed “Stop it!” stomping my foot on the ground. “I’m seriously not in the mood,” I added. My anger began boiling inside of me, I could feel a tall wave of grief coming at me. The corners of my eyes began to water and before I could process what happened next the ladybug flew at me with lighting speed and landed right on my sweater! “AHHHHHHHH” I looked around realizing I screamed so loud the entire town probably heard me. “EW EW EW” I shrieked, throwing the ladybug off my sweater sending it spiraling into the air. But the ladybug quickly caught its balance and refocused on its target: me. 

I took off down the street, running back past the general store and all the other abandoned shops away from the ravenous ladybug. I quickly reached the end of Main Street where the sidewalk stopped and the trail into the forest started. I looked back and saw the ladybug who was still furiously on my trail. Weighing my options It was either get attacked by this weirdly aggressive ladybug or run into the unfamiliar woods and face the horrors of nature. At this point my legs were  burning from the sprint, all I wanted to do was collapse on the pavement and give up. I thought of my mother and how she never would have gotten herself into this mess. She’d probably get all excited and say “You know ladybugs are a symbol of good luck?” But my mother also welcomed adventure, so I took one final deep breath before running into the woods without a clue where I was going.

I ran through the woods, legs pumping and heart beating in my ears. The entire experience was terrifying but also oddly exhilarating. It was nice to feel a strong surge of emotion that wasn’t sadness for once and I felt more alert than I had in months. I kept running straight ahead, everything blurring past me in a mix of shape and color, the fear turning to a feeling of freedom. After about 30 more seconds I began to get tired, I saw a fork up in the road ahead and decided the chase was over. I stopped and leaned up against a giant tree in the middle of the fork that a couple months ago I never would have even touched considering it was probably oozing with sap and gross fungi. I let out a small laugh knowing my mother would have been overjoyed to see me running outside and touching trees without a care in the world. 

A couple seconds later the ladybug caught up to me and landed right next to me on the trunk of the tree. The sun was beginning to set casting an orangey glow over the forest and I felt the breeze pick up wrapping my now sweaty sweater tighter around me. I looked at the lady bug realizing it wasn’t here to hurt me. “I understand you're friendly, sorry about running from you.” Now smiling I reached my hand out next to the lady bug. “You just wanna play don’t you? It's ok, I'll play with you.” The ladybug crawled over my hand and I let out another laugh “that tickles!” 

For a couple minutes the ladybug and I remained like this listening to the breeze rustling the trees above and the soft chirping of a bird nearby. The ladybug then flew to a tree on the path going right. For the first time I looked up and took in my surroundings. I noticed the two paths were both vastly different, the one on the left was wider and flatter, and the one on the right was rockier and looked as though not many people had traveled on it. I looked at the ladybug and sighed “I wanna take the one on the left” I said pointing to the clearer path. Of course the lady bug didn’t answer, instead it just stared at me intensely with those big, black, beady eyes. I don’t know what it was but some sort of instinct inside of me said to follow it, it’s what my mother would have done I kept telling myself. “Fine” I huffed and followed the ladybug down the path on the right. 

I followed my new friend for about 10 minutes down the unkept path before I started to get worried, I had taken the bus into town and knew I would miss the last one if I didn’t get back soon. Not to mention it was getting darker and colder and the path was starting to grow narrower. Also, I knew my dad would worry and then get mad which would eventually lead to another fight. But at this point I didn’t have anything to lose and despite all my concerns continued down the path. Finally the ladybug stopped, landing on a green metal gate off to the side of the trail. I pushed the gate open, beyond it was another shorter path lined with little rocks. 

In the distance I could see the path led to a small circular shaped garden. The garden contained multiple statutes slightly taller than me and a green metal fence matching the gate wrapping around the perimeter. There was also a giant fountain in the middle of the circle, the water dirty and green with moss. The statues were mostly of animals made in various materials including marble and stone. It was clear time had worn the garden down as most of the states and fountain were cracked and chipped with weeds growing out of their bases. The lack of foliage around the garden was odd and all the statues staring at me gave the garden an eerie feel.

It sort of reminded me of the Natural History Museum mom always used to take me too. I inhaled the fresh air, the calming smell of pine and citrus beckoning me to stay. I sat on the side of the fountain finally taking a much needed break and ran my fingers over the cracked grey stone. The garden looked so out of place among the dense woodland, I wondered if anybody else knew about this garden. It wasn’t on a very accessible trail and didn’t look very well taken off. How did the statues even end up here? Where did they come from? They must have taken a lot of work to move up here. I looked back at the ladybug who was now busying themself on a weed at the base of a marble tiger statue. I smiled taking in the sounds of nature all around me, the harsh breeze now a calming melody.

After a couple minutes I got up and decided to explore a bit. I kicked some leaves off the forest floor to reveal empty plots of dirt where flowers should have been. I figured the least I could do was clean the garden up in case anybody ever found it and wanted to continue the work somebody else here had clearly tried to start. I removed all the leaves from the forest floor and when that was done began to pick the weeds, I noticed a particularly large weed right of the fountain. I ripped it out and it gave way to a plaque embedded in the ground. It read: “The Ladybug Garden” in a nice cursive font. I smiled thinking of the ladybug who had led me here and thought maybe this entire adventure was fate. A couple minutes of cleaning up later the garden didn’t look half bad and the sun had almost fully set so I knew it was time to leave. I looked back over at the weed the ladybug was on to say my goodbyes but they were already gone. 

This is exactly the activity my mother would have loved to do and I was starting to see why. I wasn't a very spiritual person but as I walked back to the bus stop I wondered if the ladybug was some kind of spirit sent by mom. As if she was calling me toward the garden trying to make me understand her passion for nature. Suddenly my reality came crashing back down on me, the familiar feeling of grief washed over me. My stomach twisted itself back into knots and my chin began to quiver at the memory that my mom was still dead and my life still sucked. I took a deep breath trying to remember the fresh earthy smell of the garden. I still had a load of problems waiting for me at home but today in that garden all of them seemed to disappear.

 I should go back. Tomorrow that's what I'll do except I'll bring flowers and gardening tools to make it nice and pretty. I’ll make the garden a place I can go to escape from the world and feel connected to her. I’d do it to honor my mother. At this realization a glimmer of hope began to blossom inside me. Just like that old lady I could find a way to move on and cope with the loss. I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel, by giving this garden beauty, maybe my life could be beautiful again too. Maybe I'll even see my ladybug friend again! I sat down at the bus stop planning out what I would do tomorrow when I felt a tingling sensation on my knee. I looked down to see a tiny black ant crawling on my pant leg. I picked it up and placed it on my arm, raising it so me and the ant were at eye level “Well hello little guy. What’s your name?”