“Did you see the black widow?” my wife asked.
Not much of a question. Two lived by the front door for a while, one by the garage side door, one by the garage door and another out back around the patio. “Which one?”
“The one in the garbage can.”
“No.”
“I don’t know how you missed her. She’s right there on the top. She’s huge.”
I went out to check. It was cold and daylight. She barely moved, contrary to black widow habits when exposed to light. She wasn’t huge. I thought her on the smaller side. She was on the front lip, in a little trough. I don’t understand the trash can’s little trough’s purpose but that’s where she took up residence. Not much space for a web. I imagine insect traffic is pretty low there.
I blew on her to see what she did. She flicked a few legs in annoyance. I closed the lid.
It stayed like that for a few days. The weather grew colder. Snow fell. We saw the low twenties. Her legs grew drawn in. I wondered if she was dead, but maybe she was curled up for warmth. I blew on her. She barely stirred.
She was gone this morning when I took out a bag of kitty litter potatoes for deposit. I looked around for her but it was raining, a warmer day, at thirty-seven, but still cold in spider land. Maybe she made her way into the house. Perhaps she just descended into the trash can or one of the bags.
I don’t know. I wonder about her. I worry a little bit. Black widows seem to lead lonely lives. Maybe there’s a private social aspect that I don’t know about.
Sorry I didn’t take a photo of her. I could post it here and you could let me know if you see her. If you do think you see her, tell her I said, “Hi.”
She’ll know what you mean.
Michael Seidel, writer 