ladybug

We call them mariquitas in Peru. Little bugs, orange with black dots. It is the winter and they are resisting. They hold themselves to the walls of the windows. They look at the cold outside and they decide to stay home. “I’m not moving, old man!”, they yell.

I look at them. I count ten, eleven…twenty-three. I stop, there are more but who cares. I’m tired. The house is infested with these talking animals. “Ladybugs”. Don’t bother the ladies. Let them stay. We have plenty of room in this house for everyone. Let’s spend the winter together. Let them sitting around the fireplace, all of them, the twenty-three and more and let them hear the last story you wrote during the Summer. “Oh, I’m going to tell you, little ladies…” They will move their ears, sit quiet, look at the fire.

Expect happiness this winter .

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