I saw a bug yesterday, a beetle actually. It was in the parking garage attached to my building at work. It was black and shiny, almost iridescent, about an inch long. It lay on its back, legs flailing helplessly, trying to right itself. I flashed my badge at the sensor on the door and walked by, my morning coffee in one hand, my lunch bag and computer bag in the other. It was 7:15 AM. At 5:30 PM, pleased with the day’s accomplishments and eager to get home, dreading the hour commute, but looking forward to seeing my wife and dog, I left the building and walked to the garage. There, in the same spot I had seen it earlier in the day; lay the beetle, now motionless. It was dead. Why had I not helped it? Why did I feel guilty? It was only a bug. I had stepped on, swatted at or killed hundreds of bugs in my lifetime. Why did I feel guilty? As I walked into work this morning, I looked for the beetle, half hoping not to see it. Why does it still bother me?
A Bug’s Life
Thoughts at Large 
You feel guilty because it was a little bug waving at you with all his little arms and feet asking you for help and you chose to keep walking. It wouldn’t have cost you anything to stop, use a stick and flip him over. If roles were reversed, and you were completely stuck and asking for help, you would wish someone treated you better and showed a small act of kindness. He wasn’t a horrible, deadly being, he just needed a helping hand, being a bug and all. A little lesson from a bug: stop to smell the roses, and once in a while stop to do a weird little thing just because it’s kind. FYI, I never walk by those little things, it makes my heart happy to help. Next time you won’t chuckle at me, but beat me to it. xo
It bothers you because you have a HEART and feelings, even for a BUG.