The cricket on the hearth wore leopard-print slippers and a pearl-button coat. He chirped brightly for his lady love, whom we thought must be hiding nearby. He sang ever more extravagantly until she chirruped, revealing herself curled in the silver hollow of one of Auntie’s decorative spoons. She wore a gold-threaded chrysanthemum kimono. She hopped down and approached him. They touched antennae delicately. My sisters and I tiptoed away and prepared a wedding feast of lettuce and aphids picked from Auntie’s African violets. The moon rose. The lovers departed. We went to bed, dreaming that love, someday, might find us too.
By Mary Rohrer-Dann