I helped another ant. Or did I? Finding it in one part of the house and then taking it out through the front door must have separated it from its colony, in which case it’s now disoriented and lost in the rhododendron leaves, or the maple leaves, or the grass, or the flowerbed, depending on the direction it chose. My intention was kind — kind, yet possibly selfish. Did I do what I did in order to feel kind, or did I act out of a thoughtless, though sincere, desire to help? If I truly cared, wouldn’t I have watched the ant and followed it on its travels? I might have learned something. The moment was free. Nothing else needed my immediate attention. Instead, now I’m writing about it, just as if that will make everything right again, and put it all back where it belongs. Never mind living in a house that, in its very construction, must have displaced a hundred ant hills and indigenous species. Such a hero — a hero of convenience and mock-nobility. Still, I smile. Almost.
February 20, 2022
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