Crawl Space

The crawl space was packed with dust and webs, and spiders. And hundreds of tiny egg sacks, dangling like the plump ends of cotton swabs. In the summer, the space was loaded with movement. Tiny shiny spiders on needle-thin legs, plicking about in the stifling heat.

My father would amuse himself and roll a baseball under the house and demand that we crawl in and get it. And we did. Because we had to.

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