Sunlight glinted off the sparse white hair, tightly pulled into a bun atop her head. She was stooped over, this Old Woman, as she shuffled along the pebbled walkway. I watch her this morning as I have watched her every morning, walking toward the river, past the shed where the stone lanterns stood silently awaiting their next homes. 

She mutters quietly to herself as she walks, but I hear her. 

 “I am like these lanterns, unwanted in the day and forgotten in the night. “ 

The stone lanterns have been there through many snowfalls and springs, but we, Old Woman and I, have lives of shorter duration. There are no candles in these granite lanterns and their dark recesses give me shelter when I am not on my silken garlands, waiting my next meal. 

My large, golden web is my castle. Its beauty itself seems to protect me against the sweep of a broom. 

Old Woman sees me this morning. I am large and brilliantly colored with bright yellow and black stripes on my long legs. My striped abdomen slopes to a bright red tip. It is easy to see me. 

 “A-rah, Joro-gumo!” cries Old Woman. “You are here, too! You have been wherever I have been, from my childhood on the farm until now in this village! All else disappears. You are constant! How strange that I am glad to see a spider!” She smiles a gentle, sad smile, the kind that is not seen by others and no one smiles back. 

The summer of life is nearly over and autumn brings brisk coolness in the air. My hundreds of eggs lie hidden and protected under the sloping roof of a stone lantern. I will not see my babies. I may die this winter before they hatch in the spring. 

She waits for nothingness and I wait for life to be caught in my glistening orb. She seeks to be invisible in a world where she lives but is not really alive. I seek to be quiet and unnoticed so that I may survive. Patience is what we share, Old Woman and I.

© 23 July 2012