Feeding My Baby

I spent my morning digging for worms.
Me.
Digging for worms.

Pushing the tip of my shovel deep into the unforgiving soil of my unplanted beds.
Breaking up the packed clay.
Searching for the exposed tip of an earthworm squirming towards the darkness.
Deftly grabbing hold of the quickly disappearing speck and dragging the stretchy sliminess into the light.
Placing it gently into my cupped hand.
Ignoring the shiver that runs through my body as the worm writhes and twists on my palm.
Lifting the dirt-covered pinkness and holding it between my thumb and forefinger.

Dangling it in front of my baby.
Tempting her.
Coaxing her.
Waiting.

She cocks her heads and watches as the worm dances intricate figure eights and slow ripples.
And then…in less than an instant…the dance is over.
The worm is gone.
My baby smiles.

I pick up my shovel and push the tip deep into the unforgiving soil of my unplanted beds.
Feeding my baby.

This is my baby.

Her name is Mo’olelelani – Heavenly Dancing Dragon.
We call her Mo.

I am not a reptile person.
I like my animals cuddly and furry.
And yet…I love Mo. I cannot imagine life without her.

I met Mo in June, when her name was “Sparks”.
My children were with their father for the weekend and I was out garage sale-ing.
A group of three woman friends had banded together and they were peddling their treasures. They were laughing and bartering and having raucous good time. Their enthusiasm was infectious.
I stopped at their sale at 2pm.
I stayed.
I perused the piles.

I tried on a pair of brand new, closed toe, sandals with an $8 tag tied on to one of the straps.
“Those are cute!” exclaimed one of the women. “Seeing them on your feet makes me remember why I bought them. If you don’t get them, they’re going back in my closet.”
My feet stayed firmly inside the sandals.

A funky black goddess lamp captured my attention, but she didn’t speak to me. Besides, what would I do with a funky black goddess lamp?
“I can’t believe that lamp is still here!” marveled the woman who coveted my new sandals. “I think you need it,” she nodded to me.
“Welll,” I drawled, “I’m not sure where she would go.”
“Anywhere!” came the quick reply.
I passed.

An empty reptile aquarium, complete with florescent light, heat lamp and basking rock lay in a pile on the slope of the front lawn. A little white sticker affixed to the side of the tank read $99.
“Hmm. That’s a lot,” I thought to myself as I walked past it without stopping.

I opened a little red lacquered box with a small white owl painted on the top. Six coasters were nestled inside. “Mine,” I murmured, after flipping it over to reveal the $2 sticker stuck on the bottom. One of the women nodded her agreement.

Each time I stopped in front of an item, one of the women would make a comment.
They were fun.
They were fuh-nee.

When I had finished meandering through their wares, I plopped myself down on the lawn, in the midst of the women, and joined their happy banter.

At 3, a passerby inquired as to what sort of creature would live in the aquarium set-up.
“A bearded dragon,” replied the apparent hostess of the afore mentioned garage sale festival. “Would you like to see her? She’s for sale.”
The gentleman declined, but I was intrigued.
“What is a bearded dragon?” I asked.
“She’s up on the front porch,” she said nodding toward the house. “You can go see her if you want.”
“What the heck!” I thought, peeling myself off the grass.

As I neared the front porch, I saw a large black iron birdcage sitting in an oven of sunshine. The inside of the cage was decorated with a jungle gym of sticks. On top of the highest stick sat a lizard, mouth agape, panting heavily, sides heaving.
“Um…she’s in the direct sun,” I hollered, turning to look at the women on the lawn. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine…unless her mouth is open.”
“It’s open,” I confirmed.

The woman, whose name, I discovered, was Susan, clattered out of her lawn chair and dashed toward the porch.
She grabbed the lizard out of the cage and it clung to her shirt. Susan dipped her fingers in a bowl of water and rubbed them down the lizard’s back, gently soothing her.

I watched her fingers slide slowly over the lizard. My fingers ached to do the same.

“Do you want to hold Sparks?” Susan asked.
The “yes” leapt quickly from my soul before I had a chance to consider the reptilian furlessness of the creature she was holding.

Susan handed her to me and I knew exactly what to do.
I – who had never enjoyed the Reptile Show at the zoo, who avoided furless creatures with a vengeance – knew exactly what to do.
The dragon rested on my chest and she was home.

Susan came back to the porch an hour later and shook her head in wonder, “I’ve never seen Sparks do that,” she blurted.
The name jarred me and I could feel the soul of the dragon bristle at the sound of it. Both of us knew that that was not her name.
Susan didn’t. “Sparks does not sit still when she’s out of her cage,” she continued. “Ever! She always needs to move and chase bugs and find hiding places. You have to take her home with you!”

I knew she was right, and yet, logic took over and I heard myself saying, “A bearded dragon is not an impulse buy. You do not go to a garage sale looking for nothing in particular and come home with a bearded dragon.”

“Okay,” Susan conceded. “Go home and sleep on it. Come back to get her tomorrow, then it won’t be an impulse buy.”

The women began putting the sale away. I sat with the dragon until the shadows grew long -- until the women began making dinner rumblings and I knew I had to leave.

Alone.

I spent the evening on the computer, reading everything I could find about bearded dragons.
In the morning, I tired to forget her.
I distracted myself by picking raspberries in the backyard.

At noon, I was back at Susan’s, clutching a small bowl of raspberries.
Susan saw me and smiled “the question”.
“I don’t know,” I said, even as my soul knew that I did, “but I thought I would come by and visit…”
“I brought her some raspberries,” I added, waving the bowl and trying not to race to my dragon.

And when I got to her cage, she was waiting for me.

I opened the door and she stepped lightly onto my hand. I held out a raspberry. She licked it off my hand and swallowed with satisfaction.
I fed her the remainder of the raspberries, one by one. When the bowl was empty, she looked up at me with a raspberry juice, red lipstick smile and said, “Thank you.” And she sealed the deal.

I gave Susan $99 and I loaded the aquarium, the birdcage and all the paraphernalia into my car.
“Who knew?!” I smiled to myself as my dragon and I climbed into my car, heading for home.