It was a quintessential summer day in the Midwest. The sky was bright blue, the sun was interspersing its rays through cotton ball clouds, and the grass felt spongy and full beneath my bare feet. I had the music blaring and a smile on my face. I finally had the time to detail my dirty car. It was perfect.

I had parked under a tree that dripped sap on my window. I let it bake on there for a solid two weeks. It was impossible to get off with the soapy water, so I ventured out to the shed for some Goo Gone. As I rubbed it on, the sap still didn’t want to come off. The directions told me to let it sit on there for a minute, which clearly means five, so I went to vacuum the back.

When I came back, I saw two gnats stuck in the gooey slime that was melting the sap off. One was already dead and the other was barely wriggling. I felt horrible. The smile was wiped right off my sun-kissed face. My mind raced.

Do I try to swipe him off?

No, he won’t survive this.

Either his wings will break or he’ll die from the inhalation of chemicals…or my fat fingers will squish his atom sized body if I try to rescue him.

So I stood there and did nothing. I watched him for a few more seconds until his legs stopped moving and I knew he was dead. I tried getting into my music as I wiped the sap and gnat cemetery off my window, but couldn’t. Then I started crying.

I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it must seem to be crying over a dead gnat. Kids, and adults, squish and kill bugs all the time. There’s no moral quandary or judgement from onlookers. If anything, there’s support, curiosity, cheer, and laughter. The spider won’t bite your child. The annoying fly will stop flying onto the TV. The impressiveness of ants swarming and trying to carry their dead back home.

But this gnat did nothing to me. He wasn’t a threat or annoyance. I was the sole reason he died. He was living his best life, enjoying the same summer day as I was. My superficial want of a sparkly window and careless monitoring led to his demise. Even if it was just a gnat, he had life inside of him. It was heartbreaking knowing there was nothing I could do to save it…then it hit me.

It was more than the gnat. It was my own personal trauma bubbling up from deep within. I threw a tantrum when I was 14 years old and made my mom drive to get my yearbook. She was hit head on and killed instantly by a distracted driver. After 20 years, I still shoulder the guilt. No amount of therapy or family convincing will ever erase it.

Life is just like this. The gnat was a personification of my mom. My brain subconsciously drew links that I didn’t know it could. I’m proud that I have the self-awareness and insight to finally be able to understand the links, but sometimes I’m not because a dying gnat ruined the rest of my day. It turned into a solemn day of remembrance of the worst moment of my life.

Our brains are filled with every moment we’ve ever lived. Our hearts carry the emotions. Our souls carry the lessons.

The gnat is my mom and my mom is the gnat. My brain assimilated the two. My heart found the pain and guilt that was filed away and it washed over me. My soul grieved for the loss of both sentient beings.

One is not more important than the other. We are all one.

How different would the world be if we all realized that 100% of the time?