Monday, December 23, 2013
The kids have left a half finished virgin strawberry daiquiri on the small lounge table next to us on the beach. I sit with a book lilting in my hands in the mid afternoon sun. The bugs come and go. A bee sniffs around the opening of the glass. He hovers ever so gently above the sugary brew unaware that he is about to falter. He lands nonchalantly on the froth but flutters his wings frantically when he realizes that he is stuck.
And I think that this death.
One moment you are parading your freedom in search of what ever drives a little bee's mind and the next you have cancer, are in a car wreck, or tangled in death's grip disguised as a froo froo girly drink sin alcohol.
My brother is a little less jaded than I. He reaches over, grabs a straw, and gently lifts the debilitated creature from the quicksand. He places it on the table. Although its wings are fluttering maniacally, the hind legs are weighed down by cherry red globs of liquid delight. He limps along forward unable to take off, unable to escape the horror that has befallen him. My brother, chiropractor turned surgeon, dips the straw in a glass of water and holds his thumb over the top. He sprinkles the sticky stuff off the bee's legs delicately with his make shift dropper careful not to inundate the poor creature.
Slowly but surely, his nursing pays off. The limping evolves into tentative walking. The bee crawls past me leaving a trail of red stuff on the table cloth that reminds me of blood. Eventually he makes his way back to the daiquiri cup, and I'll be damned if he doesn't start to climb back up. He inches past the base and heaves himself forward over the thickest portion in the middle. His strength is building, his confidence is growing.
And then he flies away.
But in my world, in my world he hoists himself up with his last bit of strength and falls over the ledge to certain peril.
In my world, the temptation is just too great.
Posted by Jordan Grumet at 4:07 PM