I used to be a ballerina. Sweating under bright stage lights and gift-wrapped in pink tulle. I would slick my edges down with the glitter gel, so I really looked like a princess. People used to come all the way from Houston to see me dance. My favorite performance was some choreography I came up with all on my own, mostly. A sweet, soulful rendition of an Alvin Ailey set my dad took me to see down at the University Theater. Alvin Ailey was a Black dancer and choreographer. He formed the first African American Dance Company. So when the Ailey II dancers came to town, pop made sure me and my siblings all went.
We decided to set my performance to Summertime by George Gershwin. We were really cultured, ya know. We went to the opera, and the symphony, and museums. We had an Electronic Benefits Transfer card, so it was pretty much paid for in advance. My brothers are musicians, were musicians. Ear trained, of course. So they made the arrangement and adjusted the tempo to match my dancing.
Our family was known for its talent and creativity. We were like the Jackson Five, except Daddy was kind and he took us to get ice cream every Friday. We didn’t get spankings like the other kids at my school. I don’t even think Daddy yelled at us. In the summer, we got snowballs. For me, dreamsicle, stuffed, with cream. You probably never had a snowball. It’s like the water ice our cousins in Philadelphia used to eat, except in Louisiana, we use a machine to shave the ice and put flavored simple syrup on it. I get mine with ice cream in the middle and sweet, condensed milk on top. My sister Charlotte liked bubble gum and coconut. Her snowball was always this pretty pink, like my ballet skirt. And when the ice melted a little on the coconut side, it glistened like little crystals.
But yeah, back to Gershwin. I love that song. At first, you think it’s sad because it’s so slow. But then you get this glimmery feeling. It kind of soothes you. Like the moment right before you fall asleep and you just melt into the bed. You feel easy. It reminds me of the silent happiness I see when I look at my classmates getting hugs from their moms in the carpool line. It was the perfect song for my piece. The melody slowed everything down while I stretched wide and arched back and floated. I was so beautiful dancing to that song. My long brown legs. Just like my mom.
Now I have eight legs. We all do. They scurry me along quite well. I can get around much faster than I could with only two legs. Even still, I always seem to be in the way. People are terrified when they see me! I could probably pay more attention to where I build my web, but those kids could also watch where they are going. I was never the responsible daughter, even when I was human. My sister Charlotte though, SUPER responsible and SUPER smart. She couldn’t play an instrument or dance, but that girl could spell her butt off! She used to win all the Spelling Bees in Baton Rouge. Only lost one time that I can remember. Couldn’t spell jeopardy. Forgot the “o.”
I don’t know how she figured out that she liked words so much. One day, she just picked up a dictionary and started reading. We had like three different ones and sometimes Charlotte would just come to rehearsal with me, sit in the corner, and devour each page. I always wanted her to dance with me, but spelling was her jam and that was cool. The boys and dad had music. Charlotte had beauty and brains. I had beauty, brains and ballet.
I think it’s wild that me and Charlotte and all my brothers got reincarnated together. I thought you were supposed to lose all your consciousness or something, but it wasn’t like that for us. A lot of things were the same. I remember waking up and busting out of a little sac. It was like punching yourself out of a bag made of soggy butcher paper. The inside was velvety and soft. You could see the sun shining through where the sac had stretched and thinned. It was glowing, just like when you’re underwater in a pool looking up toward the sky, trying to pull yourself to the surface even though the chlorine burns your eyeballs. We fought our way out of that sac. We spit, and scratched, and clawed until we finally broke through.
Being reincarnated wasn’t scary, but it certainly did not live up to my expectations. All of us being the same age was cool, though. Eleven years old. I liked being eleven because I could remember dancing to Gershwin. I also remember Charlotte getting an invitation to the big national spelling bee contest, but since she was 13 when that happened, she doesn’t remember. Knowing how famous she was for her spelling would’ve made her very happy. It’s funny to look at Charlotte and see this reality for her that she can’t see for herself. Knows nothing about it. In my mind, it makes her real grand, ya know. Just amazing.
We were reborn on a farm. I had only been to a farm once as a human, but I recognized the hay bales from television. There were a lot of animals in the barn, too. A fat humble pig, chatty geese, and some other animals that I am more familiar with on a plate. Everyone was friendly enough. I couldn’t eat them though, so I had to figure out food. I was famished after the boxing match with that sac earlier.
You probably didn’t study arachnids in school as I did, so I will give you a quick tutorial on the fascinating creatures. When you’re a spider, you have to catch your food for each and every meal. There is no insect grocery store. Setting a trap for your breakfast, lunch, and dinner is a lot of physical labor. Absolute 0/10, do not recommend. Also, spiders don’t really “eat” for nourishment. We “digest” our food first. Flies, beetles, caterpillars, whatever. Then, we drink the liquified insides out of its exoskeleton. Honestly, it doesn’t taste that terrible. It’s like a protein shake.
Once we got the hang of the whole “eight legs, catch your food” situation, Charlotte and I left the farm. At first, we looked like we were running a three-legged race on stilts. We tripped all over ourselves. Your legs don’t automatically move in harmony when you have that many. You end up dragging yourself around a bit before you get the hang of it. Best advice is to move your legs like fingers playing the piano. Pretending it is something elegant like Für Elise is good. It helps if you are already graceful, like me, but with practice, anyone can learn to be poised.
Charlotte and I found a garden not too far away with lots of good hiding places inside the house. The humans, a girl named Fern and her brother Avery, were decent to live with. Avery would knock down our webs sometimes, but Fern didn’t mind if she caught me crawling on the windowsill in her bedroom. Charlotte would hang out on the bookshelf. One day, I noticed that Charlotte’s webs looked different from mine. Did you know spiders can make seven different types of silk? Charlotte would use her silk to create intricate webs that looked like fancy lace doilies—snowflakes in the summer—some spider.
Fern’s dad usually tucks her into bed at night, but sometimes Mrs. Arable does it. I like to watch them read bedtime stories and say, “I love you.” I have a perfect view from above the cedar armoire in the corner of the room. Fern knows I am there watching, but she doesn’t tell her mom. Seeing them together reminds me of Gershwin. I think Summertime sounds like what it feels like to have a mother. I wonder if Charlotte feels the same way. I know Charlotte likes Summertime by Gershwin. She used to enjoy watching me dance to it. She would tell me I was pretty and graceful, refined and willowy, nimble and lithe. Charlotte is so nurturing and thoughtful. I sometimes tell myself that she thinks of me when she makes her snowflake spider webs, but I know she is thinking of our mother.
I enjoy being eleven with Charlotte. My sister, named after our mom. Even though we never seem to meet our mother, I think I know exactly what she would be like.
Inspiration: Charlotte’s Web, by E. B. White
Ashley Pugh is a native of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and proud author of Alphabet Gumbo, an enchanting journey through her home state of Louisiana. She believes the building blocks for robust and healthy communities are homes surrounded by books, beauty, and beignets! Ashley currently resides in Atlanta, GA.
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