Writing Excerpt

The Ants are Gone

All summer I battled the ants. The soldiers showed up in June to collect fresh cookie crumbs and invade cotton candy bags and feast on sugary toothpaste spills smeared by tiny fingers.

I cursed the long lines of bugs that claimed the walls all July and pointed to spills of squeezed lemonade and fruit juices that squirt across the floor on hazy mornings. They carried tiny pieces of crab shell launched across the room when little hands beat the red claws with wooden hammers.

By August I gave up. I had battled and lost. The ripe tomatoes that overflowed skinny arms on the trip from our backyard garden to the window shelf now fed the ants when they sprayed the floor. A single dad was no match for this assault. We had far too much to do this month than to waste our summer cleaning the house.

Now the ants are gone. The floor is bare. The carpet cleaned. They have no reason to be. The hallway echoes empty in the crisp September air. The bubblegum toothpaste lies cold, hard, and lifeless on the sink until the kids come again. Dried tomatoes in sealed glass jars impress me but not the ants. I miss them.