I remember those sweltering summer nights when the air was dank and heavy. Walking into the yard at night, I was greeted with crunching sounds as I stepped on the mass of roaches creeping out of the sidewalk cracks and house walls to eat. They only came out of hiding at night, afraid to venture into the light and be seen.
No matter what I tried to eliminate them, the crunch was always there to greet my evening walks. Roaches are survivors and nothing we can do seems to remove them. Some say they will be the long term survivors as the environment tightens its noose around our necks.
I have always hated the sound of crunching roaches. It reminds me of my futility, my unavailing efforts to eliminate them; they will never be gone despite all I may do.
When I read the news, I remember the roaches and their viscid presence, no matter what I do. The nauseating sound of hatred spewed from the mouths of those who are supposed to be our leaders will endure, just like the roaches. We have always suffered through the human roaches. They feed on all of us. Like spoiled but powerful children, all we can do is limit their destructive impact until they slink back into the cracks and crevices of their putrescent existence. We can only go about our daily lives as best we can. Remember these “roaches” only thrive in the secret dark created to hide their true selves, but a roach is a roach no matter what you call it.
Disgusting? Yes.
Persistent? Yes.
They thrive on garbage. Maybe someday we can find a use for them that serves humanity…