Things that buzz and sting

spirea

It’s not a wooly mamoth or a saber tooth tiger after all, just a nasty black wasp droning like a big bumble bee in my garage when I pulled in last evening from the day’s activities. Once I spotted as well as heard it, I pulled my legs back into the car and slammed the door shut. Well, I couldn’t sit there for too long. I re-opened the garage door hoping the frantic insect would be drawn back outside by the whoosh of air, but no. Without managing to grab the library book from the passenger seat, or the swim bag from the back, I got my purse and the bag I carry things in to work, quickly unlocked the door and squeezed into the house, slamming the door, thankful not to hear the insect also coming in.

Some things just seem to follow us from childhood and we never manage to escape them. As clear as the day it happened, I remember being a four year old paralyzed with fear by all of the bees buzzing around and on the lovely spirea flowered bush in front of my family home. I sent a blood curdling scream into the air which brought my irate father flying out of his bed (he had been working nights and was trying to get his sleep during the day) in his bathrobe ready to rescue his little girl from some terrifying accident only to find me safely standing in front of the flowering shrub. This was followed by his screaming something like, What is the matter with you? Just as quickly he disappeared back into the house, probably heart pounding too hard. I ran into the family car and hid there until I felt it was safe enough to go back out to the world.

The only incident I can recall which might have inspired this fear in me was when my aunt, a year and a half my senior, and I were playing outside, she began lifting honey bees from the white clover flowers that were common in lawns decades ago, until one of them stung that finger for taking it away from the pollen. In silence I walked beside or behind her as she cried loudly on our way back to the family home down the street.

The need to retrieve the book and bag with wet suit and towel in it will drive me to once again go into the garage to the car. I may open the garage door first.

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