She forgot how much she loved rollercoasters until she stood beneath the tracks and felt them vibrating underground. She remembered what it felt like to be a kid who is thrilled by the easy things in life; where freefalling creates those insanely awesome butterflies in the stomach that get harder to replicate as life goes on. And all she wanted to do was displace herself from gravity. Even if it was only for a moment.
It was the middle of summer and all was as it should be: warm, happy, carefree. And a little bit drunk, too.
Her life would not be complete until she owned a scooter such as this. Hot pink with an explicit label. What more could she want?
She knew it would be all right because, good or bad, nothing lasts forever. It’s just a matter of weathering the storm. Or playing in the downpour and getting a little wet.
Their plaid shirts makes them hip. And their sense of irony keeps them cool in the hot summer sun.
Even though they told her five times, she could not remember the name of the band. But she certainly won’t forget the pink drumset.
And she knew it would be awhile. So she drank her drink and listened to her music and waited for the train to take her home. A while later she got sleepy and as her eyes got heavy she was jolted back to life by the movement of the train, a splash of beer on her leg, and a creepy man grinning at her from across the aisle.
After one too many summer cocktails, Miss Ally took a tumble and needed a colorful band aid to ease the pain.
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During our entirely unsuccessful and rainy weekend at the beach, we were still troopers and laid out on the sand even as it started to rain with the idea that you can still get sun on overcast days. However, I don’t think that rule applies when it looks as if the heavens are about to open up and swallow you whole.
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Bees are very interesting creatures. They create something so sweet and delicious that the name has become the most natural term of endearment (”Honey, I’m home!”). A bee’s life is so purposeful and ordered - they don’t rationalize why they do what they do. If their tiny little brains started functioning more heartily, they might decide to stop and then we humans who must justify everything would cease to reap the saccharine benefits.
But should we come face to face with one of these little critters, the majority of us freak out because our minds are immediately focused on that little stinger and the pain it can cause us. As we shriek like a little girl, we forget how large we are and that a simple swat will turn the bugger into a bloodstain on the wall. And if we get stung anyway, the bee dies. The bee never wins.
And that is exactly how I feel lately. There have been several instances where I’ve been told by different people that I’m intimidating, scary, and even terrifying. What they don’t realize is that whatever sting I could cause is at least proportionate to the harm they can cause me. And all I really want to do is make something lovely. Like the bees.