Lonely Little Ladybug

A lone red and black ladybug slowly made its way across the top of the bedroom door frame. The full glass French door showed a magnificent view of the spring day. A cloudless blue sky and a forest of oak trees covered in florescent green baby leaves, being blown gently against a back drop of brown twigs. There, just beyond its reach, crawled another lady bug on the outside of the glass. Both were unaware that, just inches away, was the comfort of another one of its kind.

Whether we admit it or not, we all want to fit in. In elementary school, no one wanted to be picked last on the team. In high school, if you were an athlete, you tended to have friends who were athletic. If you were scholarly, then you’d gravitate towards scholarly friends. In college, like people join sororities and fraternities. Once out in the real world like people join the same club, go to the same churches and live in the same neighborhoods.

Short, tall, fat, skinny, smart, or not so smart, people who are alike tend to have like friends. Ladies feel more comfortable with lady friends. Men feel more comfortable with men. It’s human nature or just nature in general. But it’s kinda hard to fit in when your name is Booger.

Booger was an odd nickname for a kid even by Flamingo Street standards, but then again, Jeff Simpson was an odd kid. Jeff got his nickname back in the first grade. He would pick his nose and ... well, let’s just say Booger earned his nickname.

Even though us kids from Flamingo Street liked Booger, he really didn’t fit in at Mt. Olive Elementary school. When he reached Briarwood High, it wasn’t much better.

Even though his disgusting habit had been abandoned long before, his nickname stuck. Booger joined the football team in the ninth grade and became one of the best fullbacks the mighty Buccaneers ever had. By the time he graduated, Booger had the admiration from all of us ... and something else.

In the tenth grade he got a new nickname. Seems over the summer he had grown hair on his upper body. When he pulled off his shirt that first day of practice, it looked as if someone had glued a thick black carpet to his chest, back and arms. From that moment on he had a new nickname: Hairy Booger.

Not very imaginative, I know, but what do you expect from a bunch of high school kids? Needless to say, with his new hairy status, Jeff really didn’t fit in.

What Jeff didn’t realize back then is the same thing we all failed to realize. None of us really fit in. We all stumble through this world with awkward self-assurance in search of others like ourselves so we will fit in and not be alone.

I opened the door and let the ladybug join its friend. They crawled off together. I was talking to the Boy the other day; he said that he was thinking about leaving college. That he didn’t really fit in right now. He told me he thinks he wants to join the military. Said he researched it and thought it would be a good fit. Stunned, I reminded him there was a war or two going on. He understood. After a long conversation, we decided not to decide just yet and said goodbye.

Thinking about what he said, I decided he may be right. The military just could be a good fit. They all wear the same uniform. They all get up together. They all eat together. He could fit in.

On second thought, maybe not. I haven’t seen too many six-foot-two, 230-pound redheads in the military.