A Midsummer Day's Heroics
A river, a dragonfly, a ladybug, and a contemplation on kindness
In the midsummer heat, we hiked through the rocky path upstream. Although we had only drove about fifteen minutes into the San Gabriel mountains, it felt as if we were transported to a wilderness far from the suburban sprawl of Los Angeles County.
For parts of the path, we had to wade through the river itself. When we first entered the stream, I looked down at the water and saw a sparkling, gossamer lace. It was the wings of a dragonfly, who now floated in stillness. I paused in silence for its death and gave a moment of gratitude for the chance to witness its fleeting beauty.
We continued on. For another hour, we walked under the unrelenting heat of the sun. Even the winds were hot, but we were motivated by the promise of the river’s cool waters.
Finally, we found the perfect spot. It was far enough from other people where we could enjoy the sound of the running water alone. It was also deep enough for us to sit down and be fully submerged, and it had shade from the trees along the banks.
My favorite part was a sort of dam made with logs and rocks, which helped to form the rock pools found all along the river. Under the shade, there was a spot about one and a half feet wide and about six inches deep—it was as though it was made especially for one to sit in and enjoy the silken flow of water.
As my husband and our friends conversed, I looked down at the water once again to enjoy the serene flow and the shimmering light on the mossy rocks just beneath the surface, for the water was so clear.
Right as I looked down, I saw there was a bright red spot floating down the stream—it was a ladybug!
Without a second thought, I scooped the ladybug up and released the excess water so she1 could breathe again. To my relief, she was still moving, although very slowly (understandably). I waded over to the branches on the side of the river and gently placed her on a small branch.
I watched what she would do next. She cleaned her antennae and then made her way slowly to a nook on the branch, where she could rid her wings of water in safety. It was fascinating. I saw her tiny, intricate wings moving with great strength and meticulousness under her red shell. After a few seconds, a tiny squirt of water came out!
By the time we had to leave, she was still in the little nook. Probably deeply contemplating her life decisions.
I find great satisfaction and reassurance in knowing that my natural instinct is to save a life. Although, the stakes weren’t very high with my own life. I often ponder what I would do if I was in a life-or-death situation. Sometimes I am scared of the answer, of what I would not be able to do.
When I was very little, my mom and I used to play a game where I would test her love for me by asking silly questions. One of them was: What would she do if there was a bomb near us? She said without hesitation that she would throw herself over it to save me. She said it so matter-of-fact, so lightheartedly, and with the most loving smile.
This story started out as a boast, a way to say that I saved a life, that I was a hero.
But I believe that if I were ever to be a hero to anyone, it would be because I learned from the bravest hero I know.
My mom.
An alternate takeaway is that all life is precious, no matter how small. And kindness doesn’t require recognition or second thought. In that moment by the river, I didn’t hesitate, nor did I pause to consider whether the ladybug could ever thank me. The act of saving her was its own reward, a quiet affirmation of our shared, fragile existence.
I like to think I did it because our body is wise. It knows instinctively that we all deserve to live the short life that we’ve been given, and we wouldn’t have gotten this far in evolution without each other. Who knows, maybe if ladybugs had never evolved, Homo sapiens too might never have come to be (if there are any phylogenetic majors out there, this could be a good thesis prompt for you).
I call the ladybug a “she” because I looked up pictures online on how to tell the difference between male and female. The shorter, wider ones are the females and the longer, skinnier ones are the males. I apologize to the ladybug if I’ve assigned the wrong sex.
A lovely read, Vanessa! All life is indeed sacred 🐞