In my head there is a swarm of angry bees and I am their Queen. They will do whatever I tell them but without guidance, they wander aimless and restless through my doubt. Getting into mischief with my self worth and racing my worry to end of tiny shadow filled city blocks.
But bees are bees, and when called into action will be the most efficient of emissaries. When properly tended my little bees will indeed create my universe in a harmony of mind and heart. The bees don’t always know when I am in trouble and I have to work extra hard to tame them. They are innocent creatures. Not the villains of my youth. The bees are here to build my world. They are my bees and some days I understand better than others that they do only what I tell them.
I've wanted to post something for months. I wanted to explain my absence. I wanted to make it polished and insightful but I’m choosing honesty and my own messy reality instead:
It’s difficult here at the end of the season, to wrap my brain around the year I’ve had. This time last year my mother was in the ICU, the clear beginning of the end. I should be grateful that I was already well through the feeling of complete and utter loss of place, and displacement, before that fucked up winter. Mia’s mom, Missy, gave me great comfort and a place of pure sanctuary to lick my wounds. In her home I achieved a solitude I’ve been aching for. In Texas of all places, I found the path out of darkness.
At first I felt like my mother dying was the cap on these 3 shitty years we’ve had with the Covid pandemic. She passed the end of March 2023, just this past spring. If only it were all so tidy. I bookended the spring with bouts of Covid. The recovery of my body has been slow but forward moving. My mind and heart however are still deep in the shadows. I can feel our community winding down for the year, getting quieter, preparing to hibernate. I’ve planned a busy winter. Maybe I’m just trying to give the bees something productive to do.
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