The effects of a beetle

"Hey, come over here and look at this," I motioned to my friend. She walked over and copied my position, bending over to look at the sandy, man-made steps near the beach.
"Um, it's a beetle."
"Yup. Isn't it cute?" I smiled. I continued to gaze at the little beetle, wandering about on the small, single step that to it was a gigantic platform. I wondered if it would find its way off and get to a less exposed area soon.
"Er... yeah," she replied hesitantly.
"Hmm... I hope it gets to safety soon. Out here it can get squished easily..." I began to watch the beetle anxiously, urging it with my mind to get off the step quickly.
"Yeah, that's true," my friend said, looking at the beetle with more concern. I suppose even though her thoughts about beetles weren't as extensive as mine, the thought of it getting squished was bad to her as well.
"Hurry up, beetle, hurry up!" I said outloud, half jokingly, and made my friend laugh.

Just then my dad, who was walking down with my mom a little behind us, caught up, and was about to walk over the step when I stood up and said hurriedly, "Dad, don't step on the beetle!"
He looked at me strangely and said, "What?"
"There's a beetle right there. Don't step on it!"
He gave me another look, but this time - it was a look of disgust. He made a noise to show his disgust with me, and lifted his leg. I watched in shock and horror as he deliberately slammed his foot on the beetle with all his might, muttering something as to what was wrong with me.

My heart tugged. He lifted his foot, and I saw the poor, poor beetle's flattened body, now a disgusting mess of bug guts and goo. I swallowed. Just a few seconds ago it had been alive and was scurrying around on the step, as I had watched, smiling. Now it was dead. Just like that.

I didn't want my dad to see how shocked I was at his behavior, or how hurt I was, so I ran ahead without another word to catch up with my friend, who had gone on ahead. All the while, I heard my father grumpily complaining about me... he was saying stuff like, "What is wrong with her? She's caring so much for a beetle!" My mother replied gently, "It's because she's so kindhearted. What's wrong with that?" I ran farther, and eventually their voices faded away.

My friend was waiting for me, and we walked along. I smiled to show I wasn't affected by what my dad did.

We had reached the part of the hike where we actually went down to the beach itself, and everyone walked along near the waves. I began to drift away from everyone else and thought of that moment where the little beetle was squished. I wondered whether my dad was right - I cared too much for insignificant things.

But part of me was angry at my father. He didn't have to kill that beetle! He could've been mad that I was so "caring," but he could've just walked on!! What was with deliberately squishing the beetle??? Did he want my heart to hurt like that? I couldn't believe him.
Then part of me was angry at myself, for my senstiveness. I was pissed I was so angry at my dad. It was just a beetle, for goodness sake. Why get angry at a human for killing an insect? Why feel hurt when an insect died? Why feel so sad that I had to hold in tears, at some parts of the beach walk? For there were times on the walk where I felt a lump in my throat, and my eyes began misting up, and I had to force myself not to cry. Anger at myself would come up, for feeling the need to cry. FOR A BEETLE!!

I didn't feel better for the rest of the walk. I became angrier when I saw my father later, at the end of the hike, whistling and being happy. He obviously didn't see how emotionally messed up I was. (again, for a beetle. WTF is wrong with me??????)

Thankfully, all 3 families went to eat at a restaurant near the beach after the hike, and my friends cheered me up (although they didn't know I was sad/angry in the first place). I laughed and smiled a lot, and all the kids in the 3 families went over one kid's house after the dinner.

I forgot all about the beetle, until the next day. I wonder how long that beetle will continue to haunt me...

~Jenn~