Words are a gentle reminder

My brother, David, and his wife, Apryl, stopped by last week. They had been at  Apryl’s parents’ place at Lake St. Mary’s and had called to see if we were going to be home.
We had a nice visit and as they were leaving, we were standing on the front porch, chatting. David swatted at a bee. We call them sentinel bees because they guard the front door. In reality, they are fat carpenter bees, and the only harm they do is to leave perfectly round holes in the soffits. They don’t sting, and usually hang around for a month or so before their fuzzy corpses litter the porch.
They are rarely around at this time of year, but that is not the point. As David was swatting, I told him, “They won’t hurt you.”
Immediately he responded by asking Apryl, “Do you know who she sounds like?”
She didn’t have to answer. I already knew. It was my grandmother’s words coming out of my mouth. We all lived at grandma’s house at one time or another. The back porch was home to several swarms of wasps. It was the only usable entrance to the house. When we would complain about the wasps, she would invariably say, “They won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt them.”
We were not convinced. The number of wasps in the swarms seemed to increase every day, as did our fear of them. Truth be told, not one of us ever got stung on the back porch. Once we were safely outside, we were fair game for the wasps. I have been stung by wasps guarding the clothesline, and by wasps that simply didn’t like me breathing the same air they did. It hurts. A lot. The baking soda paste Mom applied to the stings didn’t make the pain any less, but we all survived.
Bee stings don’t seem to hurt as much as wasp stings, but as we have each been stung multiple times in our lives by both bees and wasps, we are understandably wary of black and yellow flying creatures as well as narrow-waisted iridescent ones.
Even though I understood his concern, “They won’t hurt you,” flew out of my mouth before I could stop the words.
It is not only her words that I said. I truly believe that the bees won’t bother us if we don’t bother them. The one that David swatted was merely guarding his territory.
Even though my grandmother has been dead for many years now, she still lives on in the words I say, the beliefs I hold, and even the things I plant in my yard. I grew up in her house. I witnessed her failings and successes. I have seen her cry and heard her laugh. I heard the frustration in her voice when a stroke took away many of her abilities. I felt the emptiness of the house after she died.
Yet, a part of her lives on. The words I say are words I have heard my entire life. The beliefs I hold were shaped by her. True enough, some of my beliefs are a direct result of my determination to be her opposite, but even that has helped form the tenets of my life.
The plants I choose are an attempt to duplicate the ones she grew. Her love of the outdoors and the  rural life have given me a longing for the simplicity of a time that no longer exists in my world. I can go months and months without thinking of her. Then her words will fly out of my mouth, and she lives again.
It amazes me that a little bee can evoke such strong memories. But then, she was a strong woman who believed that “they” won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt them. I believe it, too.[[In-content Ad]]