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Gworm

When they first found him, curled onto himself uncovered in the dirt, warm under the bark in fresh, fragrant soil, the milky translucent skin of his back caused them to recoil. “Ew!” they grabbed each other, until they drew closer. He was small and immobile, so they brought their eyes near, finding reverence to the small life curled before them. The curved, white grub started to become beautiful to their eyes when they took the time to examine him, uncovered by their sticks, resting between cabbage and papaya. His lowliness now a virtue, “He’s my baby,” said the big brother, as he gently scooped him up into his palm. They named him Gworm and carried him around the yard, carefully in their hands. They loved without bias, and found beauty in the plain, changing their minds when they drew closer to see.

 

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