Over the past several months I’ve been noticing dead cockroaches.
Not the small ones, mind you, but the big, granddaddy roaches that are about two and a half inches long.
All of them I’ve seen are dead and most of them died in the usual way: somebody stepped on them.
They keep appearing in my normal walking paths that I travel during work, shopping, going to the library, etc.
I’m no entomologist, but from what I understand, the larger insects are commonly adult specimens, are relatively smart and stay hidden away during daytime hours so as not to be stepped on.
But here they are, in broad daylight, and some I’ve seen are still squirming with the last remnants of insect life.
I didn’t give it much thought after spotting a few of the buggers, but then the numbers starting climbing, to the point where I’ve seen two dozen or more during my routine journeys.
And I’m still seeing them. Every few days or so.
Sometimes I’m not too terribly bright, and this would qualify as one of those times, but the symbolism of these dead, granddaddy cockroaches finally sank into my mind.
Spirit, my guardian angels, my higher self or someone in the higher dimensions has been saying, “Hey! See the big, dead roach? That’s a symbol for the bad guys in the world!”
Ah! Now I get it.