I first saw it there on the sidewalk a couple weeks ago –
the bright red/orange stripes of the gummy worm confirmed it had only recently
arrived at that patch of concrete near the bench and the bike rack. It felt so
shockingly out of place to my eyes among its drab surroundings – the vibrant
color clashed against the beige/brown/gray of the sidewalk. It kept my
attention and brought a smile to my face, though I couldn’t say why.
I assumed it wouldn’t be there long, thought it might be
gone when I walked by the next day. I’d pictured some bird noticing it and
picking it up, whether in confusion that perhaps it was a real worm (and being
– in my mind, pleasantly – surprised by it’s very different taste), or with the
hope that it would provide a functional and fashionable use in its nest
somewhere above. Maybe a squirrel would make off with it, unsure of why. I
wondered if I was the only one to notice it and it might get trampled and
kicked and moved from the general flow of foot-traffic on that sidewalk. Though
I hoped against it, my imagination even allowed the thought of a little child
picking it up to eat – and then I included an attentive parent quickly
stripping it from the child’s eager hand and throwing it away.
But it was still there in the exact same spot when I walked
by the next day. And the day after that. And the day after. I started looking
for it each day, conscious of the spot ahead of me as I walked to the metro
from work every evening. A whole week, and nothing had changed, except the
vividness of the gummy worm’s colors had dimmed a little from dust.
The weekend came and, as happened roughly 2 minutes after I
walked away from the worm each day, I completely forgot about it. I didn’t
think of it once. Monday morning, I went to work, my mind full of the must-do’s
and worries of the next 8 hours. But as I walked away that evening, I came to
the spot of the gummy worm, still there, perfectly molded in its trademark S
curve, just as it had always been. My shock surprised me – it was a mixture of
surprise that it was still there; surprise at how exactly the same, yet so very
different it was from the last time I saw it; surprise that I even cared so
much to notice it. The worm was still in perfect shape, with no damage to its
body, completely whole. But oh, how different it looked all covered in dust,
with tiny pebbles sticking at random points! The reds and oranges that first
caught my eye, so stifled under the accumulated dirt of the street, now dulled
and dreary to the casual passer-by. A glory that the World was slowly snuffing
out.
I chided myself for being so delicate, but I was heartbroken
for the worm – for the 20 seconds that I remembered it. But, as it had been
everyday before, my worries of crossing the street, catching the train, making
it home took over my thoughts and the worm’s plight was quickly forgotten in
light of more pressing (and dare I say legitimate) concerns.
Still, I continued to look for it each evening as I left
work - and it continued to be there when I passed. I wondered if it could ever
be moved, or if it would just become a permanent fixture to that sidewalk –
it’s own little monument, in a city of monuments. And I worried that it would
be there always, until one day it wasn’t, and what if when that day came, I
didn’t notice? What if the day it disappeared from the sidewalk, it also
disappeared from my mind, from my memory? Would I grieve? Would I even
remember?
But in all my brief daily musings, I hadn’t considered the
possibility of yesterday. Yesterday, as I drew near to the worm’s place, I
noticed a change – the worm’s shape was somewhat deflated, and it seemed
surrounded in a soft halo of brilliant red and orange. A call to its former
life, and yet still an old, grey gummy. Two lives at once.
The gummy worm was melting.
Yesterday was hot and humid, for apparently the first time
in weeks, and Nature attacked that gummy worm with its might. Knowing
first-hand just how wilting DC humidity can be, I knew the poor worm hadn’t
stood a chance against it. While it would not be affected by Man, one cannot
fight Nature.
And yet. Its life was slowly fading away – no, not fading,
radiating brilliance as it slipped away to another form. The gummy glowed in
testament to the vibrancy of its resilience and its absolute beauty. The dirt
and dust of the street could not overcome the worm’s true qualities. In the
World, all things must end, but the World will not End them. I felt
inexplicable strength and peace as I watched the gummy worm’s end come in
brilliant pools of colorful glory. No matter how the world may try to cover me
or hide my light, it will still be there in me, and it can break through
however many layers may try to block it out, as long as I am true to myself and
confident in who I am.
The gummy worm was gone today. I drew close to the spot,
searching for the familiar shape, and the sidewalk was clear. No bright colors
dying the sidewalk stones, nothing at all to say a gummy worm had lived a
lifetime there. I worried that I was looking in the wrong place – had I missed
it? Was it further down the sidewalk? Did I really not remember where it had
been these many days?
No, I knew – it just wasn’t there. And I allowed myself a small smile – rich in
complexity of sorrow and peace and joy. As much as I missed the dependable
sight of my friend, I joyed in its escape from monotony. It was no longer stuck
– it was now on the move, whether as a tangible being or muddled in the air and
moisture around me, perhaps it didn’t matter. It was free from the weight of
that sidewalk and could set its sights on greater futures, and I walked away knowing
that perhaps I could be free to, as well.
