My Little Ant-Size Body.

I remember staring at the row of ant soldiers emerge from the dirt.

Belly to the ground.

The tiniest tip-top of my pointer finger tapping the black dots, all marching in a row, obediently.

They were so organized, those ants.

I was with the Sisters.

You know, the Crew.

All the younger sisters of the Orioles (often mispronounced “Oreos”) Little League baseball team.

We stuck together.

“Let’s go to the sandbox,” demanded Sarah.

She was the Leader.

Her skin was tan and people listened to her.

So, we went.

Shoes thrown high over our shoulders into the overgrown grass.

No looking back.

We didn’t need them.

Sand was meant for bare feet.

Everyone knew that.

“Who wants to have me over to spend the night tonight?” Sarah asked.

Was this some sort of test? I quietly wondered.

A cry for loyalty among her people?

Sarah was the Queen Ant and we were her tiny black dots, marching obediently in a row, under the potential careless tap of a giant.

It seemed strange she asked this question.

But Sarah had taught us how to get every SPECK of pink and blue sugar out of the candy straws sold at the concession stand. 

You know, the ones that were half our height.

Sarah even taught us how to play Wall Ball with the boys.

We owed her.

So I answered back quietly, trying not to sound too scared.

"You can spend the night with me.” 

A sigh of relief was audibly released among the other small ants dressed in overalls and Krackeroos hair bows.

Queen Sarah nodded in approval.

The dark blanket of stars above her shoulders, above all of our shoulders, was impressive.

There was something about the sound of metal baseball bats and tired but proud parents cheering on their kids, and their kids’ friends, and the friends of their kids’ friends that was oddly comforting. 

I felt safe underneath that sky with those sounds and those people.

My little ant-size body with my small, timid voice but yet-

Tonight I was as big as the sky.