I worry so much about the bees.
Forget everything else that threatens our existence which we have caused by our own hand- if we lose the bees, we're dead. That is it. No going back.
While I was saving the bee, Owen was on the phone with his mother. She had called to say that Jason was on his way and since the phone was right by Owen when it rang, he asked if he could answer it. I told him he could and he did and instead of hello, he said, "Who is it?" and was delighted that it was his mother and he gave her the run-down as I rescued the bee and chatted with her nicely. I can't believe he's this grown up. I cannot believe it.
When I woke up this morning and came out to the porch to feed the dogs, the wisteria looked so very purple, the light shone so very brightly. It put me in mind of doing hallucinogens, it reminded me of when I started the Celexa originally- same thing happened. I wonder if ladies who used to dose themselves with Belladonna to make their pupils open so beautifully had the same sort of vision. They must have. How their eyes must have shone in the candlelight!
Obviously, my brain is not quite itself this morning but I will tell you that it is not off in that wildest, cruelest place of panic. I will take this. Oh god yes. I will take this.
I am doing laundry. I have to pack. It is the time of year when the days are very warm but the nights, the early mornings, are still chilly. What to bring and oh god...bras.
I should take a walk but I feel as if I did anything too physical right now, I might crack in two. Does that make sense? Of course not. When the anxiety is upon me and I am jittery and as tense as that high wire, I have to keep moving, as I said last night and its sudden cessation leaves me limp. I have to be gentle in order not to crack the shell, release the demon. Tomorrow I will feel like walking and maybe I will walk all over Apalachicola, walk to the old graveyard, up and down the shady streets, maybe go to the beach and walk there.
I must pack a bathing suit.
I must pull myself together, lift up this limp mess of myself and force it to move.
And yet, how happy I would be just to sit here and watch the wisteria as it opens and the purples deepen
I know that drive to the coast and it always makes me happy.
There will be pictures. Probably words as well.
If I don't crack in two.
And the bees will have to save themselves so they need to remember not to come onto the porch but to stay where they belong in the sweet bosoms of their blossoms.