Rét. Huge, spacious. It is covered with hundreds of grasses, weeds, weeds, wild flowers, thistles, and hidden among them many species of insects and bugs.
My child, like a kind of little foal freed from the pen, runs around on it. He kicks the ball, sometimes he hits a blade of grass or a bunch of grass instead, but he is still in a good mood. Tirelessly he gallops, throws up and throws himself, kicks a goal into the goal marked with two stones, but he doesn't mind.
He couldn't even control himself at home. Since spring came, she can hardly be lured out of the yard. He's solving his enforced confinement in the house by running around like a madman. Out of the room, into the kitchen, zigzagging, slamming doors. I call him in vain. I know what he's trying to tell me. I've had enough of his liveliness.
I look at his flushed cheeks, his curly locks of hair, all tangled with sweat, his happy little being. I have no heart to say. At least out here he can let off steam.
I stretch out on the blanket and close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Then something touches my hand. Maybe an ant. I move it a little, but the touch of the thing doesn't stop. I sit up, my eyes go wide: a huge green monster is perched on the back of my hand, a praying mantis! But how peaceful.
Looking closer now, the gigantic-looking creature resembles a green horse. Not a horse, a proud trotter, for it has wings. It pulls itself out in a southerly direction, and when I put my hand to my face, it does not flinch, nor does it want to fly away or jump. He likes to pose on the back of my hand. I gently push him onto my index finger so I can get a closer look.
My child, noticing that my attention is no longer on him, my eyes no longer following his antics, pauses for a moment.
- Mom, what are you looking at? - she asks.
- "Come on," I say. "If you approach it gently, it won't jump away.
- "But what?" he asks again, taking cautious steps as he approaches. - A frog?
There is no need to explain, because he got to the blanket in the meantime. He bends down, then crouches down next to me. His movements are deliberate, slow, not wanting to scare away a creature he's never seen before.
- Does it sting? - he asks in a whisper.
- You see, I would not hold it in my hand.
- Can I hold it too? - he continues to ask.
Then, at my nod of approval, he becomes emboldened. He holds out his hand and I calmly place the green horse on it. My child doesn't even sigh, she trusts me so much. If I said he wouldn't bite, he won't be hurt.
After that we just stare at the little creature for an hour or so. Sometimes it stretches out, creeping forward a little. It leans on the back of a child's hand, clenched in a fist, as if looking out from a balcony. Now it's not a horse, now it's a staring alien creature. Only occasionally do we exchange a word or two when my child remarks.
- You see, his head is shaped like a heart. What big eyes he has! And his tentacles are long for his body.
Now I'm trying to add something new.
- Look at that. On the top pair of legs, it looks like he's wearing tiny green shorts with a fit. Funny, isn't it?
But we are not laughing, we do not want to break the spell of being embraced, even by a praying mantis.
The sun is about to set behind the mountains, we are picking. We carefully place the locust in the grass. After saying goodbye, we head home. My child quietly walks beside me, holding my hand. At home, he doesn't immediately start running around, but asks me to take out a book about insects and look through it together to see if it talks about locusts.
And if you don't have one at home, make sure you buy one the next day - and I promise you we will. Of course I promise, it's a miracle! A locust tamed my child...
