writer. thinker. storyteller.

Bees

Bees

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I remember playing outside barefoot when I was a little girl.  I remember this with a twinge of PTSD creeping through my feet and up into my spine.  Why?  Because I remember getting stung.  I remember this happening frequently.

When I wasn’t being stung by the bees, I was lying on my stomach watching the white clover flowers giggle as the bees landed on them.

I don’t remember when I stopped seeing the bees, but I do remember seeing less and less.

As I was writing at the picnic table a few weeks ago, I noticed a bee on a white clover flower.  Then, I noticed another.  And, another.

This was the first time I had seen more than one bee at a time in years!  I sat there and watched them dance on the flowers.

It was all very nostalgic and calming.  I imagine this was mostly because I was wearing proper shoes, so I had no need to worry about accidentally getting stung.

 



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