Today’s WordPress prompt: Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?

Yikes. This could take awhile.

However…yesterday afternoon I had a dentist appointment, and this creature was sitting on the fence as as I pulled into the parking space:

“Well hello, Squirrel,” I say from the driver’s seat.

The squirrel does not move.

I take a picture of it with my phone.

The squirrel does not move.

The wind is kicking up, rain starts spattering…

The squirrel does not move.

It watches me as intently as I’m watching it.

I note the right paw raised, perhaps in readiness to flee…

Which is what the squirrel does, as soon as I look away to reach for my purse, for in that fraction of a second – poof! – it is gone.

So, back to the WordPress prompt: Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?

I wouldn’t have thought to compare myself to a squirrel, but since one came to me, and since I have no idea of what else to write about today in the March Slice of Life Challenge, I will consider how the squirrel and I are alike. Isn’t this a hallmark of the writerly life, using everything that comes your way?

Here’s what I found with a bit of research:

Squirrels are preparers.

Squirrels are resourceful.

Squirrels can symbolize that it’s okay to forget and move forward.

Squirrels can symbolize that life’s blessings can take root in unexpected ways.

I never expected to discover such a kinship with the squirrel.

I am also captivated by the etymology of “squirrel.” Derived from Ancient Greek, it means shadow-tailed.

Squirrels use their beautiful “shadow” tails for balance, a warm cover against the cold, a means of communication, and even in expression of emotions. They flick their tails when alarmed, happy, and frustrated.

Symbolically speaking, the squirrel’s tail can represent the past (as a “shadow” behind the squirrel, which is attached to it, and follows it).

Think on that awhile. The shadows of the past…ever with us.

Haunting? Not necessarily. As someone who likes dabbling with memoir, I find unexpected riches in writing about the past. A cache of courage. A hallowed hoard, even in the darkest places.

In those shadows, I find the first book I can remember being read to me… here I am, a toddler, sitting on my grandmother’s lap, listening to the playful rhyming lines in a book about…squirrels.

Thank you, Squirrel, for being here.

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with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the March Slice of Life Story Challenge