the pale yellow sun hangs lazily in the crystal blue summer sky. i am three years old, and sitting near the garden in our back yard.
i look to my right. there's my mother hanging laundry on the clothes line. i can smell the freshness on the warm breeze. my father's white cotton shirts flap gently like surrender flags of some long forgotten war.
i look to my left. there in the garden is an old mirror. i catch a glimpse of a young boy. me. carrot orange curls fall all around my face. clear green inquisitive eyes scan the vegetation.
there it is, the strawberry patch. alive with the buzzing of twenty or thirty bees.
i move closer slowly reaching my hand towards the busy little workers. "watch out you don't get stung!" a cry comes from my mother. but i am not afraid or even nervous.
to others they are scary stinging insects, but to me they are amazing small creatures. capable of many astounding things.
i let my hand hang softly as to not frighten or scare them. one decides to climb aboard. i giggle as her tiny legs tickle my skin gently. my hand comes closer to my face so i can examine more closely.
what a wonderful animal. black and yellow rings of tiny hair follicles make up the main body. attached are two fragile wings,that can take her up to three miles from her hive. her back legs are swollen with small bags of yellow pollen. she is not interested in stinging me. instead she wanders my hand curiously looking for some semblance of a plant. i lower her back to the patch.
i notice the uniformed way in which all the bees takes turns at collecting the plants golden nectar. nectar which they will take back to their hive and all work together to make natures perfect food.
now that i am an adult, and i go out in the world, i see so many people not interested in interacting with each other in positive ways. instead, we struggle to obtain more material possessions than the next one, somehow believing that this is the secret to happiness. when the answer is true friendship and love.
so, as i think back on these memories of days gone past, i wonder sometimes, why can't we be more like bees ?