a·rach·no·pho·bi·a or a·rach·no·pho·bi·a
n. An abnormal fear of spiders.
This is a dishonest definition of arachnophobia. To fear spiders is normal, it’s actually quite healthy. Abbey reminded me of this while chatting with Randy and me on our way to church one Sunday evening. We were in the van when it happened. Randy was driving, I was looking out the window, and Abbey was talking—just like she always does. She talks or she sings—one or the other—and it’s actually quite pleasant to hear her sweet voice express the lovely things that reside in her heart. But suddenly, she was quiet. I listened for the song to continue but instead heard her speak short and deliberate words, “MOM. LOOK. AT. DAD’S. NECK.”
And so I looked—and then I froze, my heart now sharing a spot with my stomach. There, just above his collar and just below his clean-shaven jaw, was an arachnid—a spider. The kind that makes a tunnel from his spider silk instead of the traditional web. And it was not small. I realized that if I expressed my sheer terror, Randy would express his—not a good thing for a man driving a minivan. And so I remained calm while I positioned my fingers to flick the thing off his neck and into the atmosphere. Wrong move. Seeing my intentions, Abbey, once again, began to express herself, “NO! Don’t flick it, Mom! Please don’t flick it off! It’ll land on me!”
She did have a point. She was sitting directly behind her daddy and the spider could easily land on her neck if I flicked it from her father’s. But my time was running out. I needed to get the spider off my poor husband before it decided to crawl under his collar. And I needed to remain calm—for Randy’s sake. “What is it? What is it?” he kept asking me over and over again. But I could not tell him; remember, he was driving—on Nichols Road, a very busy thoroughfare.
My eyes searched the van for a napkin, a tissue, a Dunkin’ Donuts bag—ANYTHING to grab the ugly arachnid before it darted out of sight. A latex glove used to protect my husband from copier toner toxins lay black and purposeless on the floor of the van. I used it to snatch the unsuspecting spider from my husband’s vulnerable neck and felt it *pop* between my fingertips. I had maintained my composure during the entire spider episode; but at that moment, I felt entitled to lose consciousness in the passenger seat of my husband’s van. In fact, I wanted to lose consciousness and forget that the whole thing ever happened!
This spider incident has changed me forever. Since that day, I cannot ride in our van without checking for the rest of the spider family. And so, I have a NEW definition for arachnophobia:
a·rach·no·pho·bi·a or a·rach·no·pho·bi·a
n. A completely NORMAL fear of spiders.
