The Enemy is Alive

Sarah reported this morning that the black spider is not dead, but has resumed her activity, rolling the corpse of the dead pincher bug into a cocoon of sticky web, maybe for later consumption. After her morbid task, the killer disappears into the doorframe, leaving behind the object of her labor, which the house vacuum consumes in no time by the afternoon.

Sarah is no longer interested with the victorious soldier, nor the casualty of war. Her day is immediately filled with other activities that occupy her mind fully. But her mother's mind keeps rewinding the image of a struggling insect with its pincers biting the air. She can not detach herself from what it evokes in her, her fruitless attempts to orchestrate her kids' life into a harmonious concert, fighting against a pop-culture which values are so alien, which power is so strong comparing to her feeble command, which attraction is instantaneous while her guidance takes years to influence.

Like that pincher bug, she is losing the battle fast, while the enemies are many and winning.  ¶ 11:34 PM