I dismissed my daughter’s idea that a bat was in the house when she heard flapping and sudden erratic slaps from the workroom. That evening, in the quiet of the night, the sounds echoed in the house and, yes, we certainly had an active guest—but, what and where?
Possibly a bird could have entered through the chimney, be imprisoned in the gutter or was attempting to exit the attic. The following evening I was working through the laundry and I heard it, Chirp Chirp Chirp Chirp. I determined it was in the far corner of the room and cautiously inched over. As I circled in on the rhythmic song, it ceased. Two steps back, again, Chirp Chirp Chirp Chirp.Two discreet steps forward, it ceased. I continued this exercise six more times with the same results and returned to my laundry and the song of the cricket. After returning to empty the wash into the dryer I repeated the previous drill. “Circle in quietly and deliberately, hunch over just a bit so that Mr. Informed Cricket will not observe my advancing approach. Still my breathing, be careful not to permit the bottom of my flip-flops to scrap the cement floor”. Same conclusion. Mr. Informed Timid Apprehensive Cricket quieted as I drew close. The following night, the same scenario.
I am becoming distressed. Mr. Informed Timid Apprehensive Melancholy Cricket is chirping for his mate and his destiny is rather bleak in the rafters of my basement. To add to the dismal scene, the third day I have another chirping at my back door. I swear the thing is calling for the one in the basement. Chirp Chirp Chirp Chirp If I didn’t remember that only male crickets can chirp, I would have further romanticized the moment to be his mate calling to him. It must be his sibling—I just know it! I am unnaturally obsessed and concerned at the continued chirping. How do you communicate to a cricket that you only want to rescue him and move him to the outside with his brother? Oh, woe! Poor Mr. Informed Timid Apprehensive Melancholy Lonely Frightened Cricket with an orphaned sibling.
Chir Chirrr Chir Chirrr, What is this now? The song has changed. It’s sounds like mourning. Oh please don’t have this be his swan song! “Stop thinking about the cricket. Stop thinking about the cricket.”
Day four, I begin to journal about the Nearsighted Poor Mr. Informed Timid Apprehensive Melancholy Lonely Frightened Cricket with an orphaned discouraged sibling. He must not have been able to discern his way and mistook an opening in my home for another passageway. Are crickets nocturnal? Should I leave the basement light on?
It has been four nights now since I discovered we are homing a cricket in our basement. Surely tonight I will lie in my bed and further contemplate the Nearsighted Poor Mr. Informed Timid Apprehensive Melancholy Lonely Frightened Cricket who is doomed with an orphaned discouraged saddened sibling outside my back door. Perhaps I will check on him before I go up to bed…