The wind has a chill to it that the sun bites through. Nora closes her eyes, smiling, as the sun makes its mark on each spot of bare skin. She stretches her arms overhead and grabs the top of the lounge chair. Taking a deep breath in, her rib cage swells, and she tries to hold the day inside of her to remember forever.
Bzzzzzz. Nora raises up and looks over her shoulder but finds no evidence of a buzzing creature. She notices the rose buds peeking out between their leaves; they seem to wink at her. They like this weather too. She settles back into the lounger, returning to her love, the sun.
Bzzzzzz. Swinging her legs over the side of the lounger, she pops up. “Ok, now, I heard you. Where are you?” Two bumblebees zip past her, chasing each other. “There you are.” Leaning back again, she watches her new companions swirl through the air. Mating, she assumes. Spring has everything chasing life.
Nora remembers photos she’s seen of bumblebees with their fuzzy little bottoms lounging in flowers. “Oh, you guys! You’re so cute!” One of them swoops close to her head. Bzzz. She ducks. Swoosh-bzzz. It did it again. “Hey now, don’t do that. You’re scaring me.” Bzzzz. Nora’s eyebrows squeeze together as she hops up and hurries to the other side of the patio, the concrete chilling her bare feet. Turning back to make sure they haven’t chased her, a cloud passes over the sun. The cold from her feet finds its way up the length of her body. She hugs herself, searching for warmth.
Walking back toward the lounge area with slow, measured steps, Nora holds her hands up as she approaches the bees, “I’m not going to hurt you. We can be friends, but I’m going to need you to stop scaring me.” She tilts her chin down and looks up at them. One bee hovers in place and moves carefully toward Nora. “Hi,” she whispers. The bee lingers. Her toes grip the concrete, bracing for a possible sting. She tucks her hands inside of her wrap, the chill lingering from the shade. Nora shifts to the side, taking one slow step toward her seat, when the bee raises a leg. Her eyes widen. The bee is waving at her. Swoosh. It’s gone.
Nora sits on the edge of her lounge chair, knees bouncing, chin in hands, scanning the garden for the bees. The tulips lining the walkway sway in the breeze.
The sun peeks out from behind the clouds, and its warmth breaks through the chill the shade had delivered. Lying back, Nora lifts her chin, breathes in deep, and savors all the day has given her just a little while longer.
Before going inside, Nora takes the path leading to the wildflowers at the end of the garden. Spreading her arms, she balances on each stepping stone. Lifting her face to the sun, she turns in slow circles, each delicate bloom brushing against her fingertips. She imagines the bees surrounding her, lounging in the flowers. Stopping as the idea takes hold, she realizes that if they were going to be a family, she would need to document them. Nora brings her hands to her face and bends down; her elbows meet her knees. Her eyes scan the flowers for possibilities. Maybe she could give them names and learn to recognize them. Nora pops up and takes note of each flower that could serve as a lounge spot for the bees. She’s going to need more flowers.
The sun is making patterns on the wall as Nora wakes up. The orange glow has the sun’s bite in it, promising another day of warmth and ease. Nora smiles, stretches her arms overhead, and twists onto her side. Her eyes land on the window where she can see the patch of wildflowers. The bees. She flings the covers back and hops out of bed.
In the kitchen, the gurgle of the coffee pot soothes her. Taking her favorite mug from the cabinet, she pours herself a cup and settles into the chair by the window. Sipping her coffee, she admires the roses. Some have bloomed overnight.
Nora’s gaze moves to the shelves on the wall. Both smooth and warm-toned; one full of memories of a life lost, and the other empty. She feels her throat tense up and her eyes start to tighten; she shakes her head. Not today. Nothing she’s put on the empty shelf deserved the space. But now, the bees. Nora smiles over her coffee mug while the vision takes shape. Nora drank down the rest of her half-cooled coffee and rushed out back to find the bees.
The morning sun is charging up for the day. Nora shivers at the bite in the air. She is in her sleep clothes and hadn’t grabbed her robe. Shadows cover most of the garden, and the bees are nowhere in sight. Tip-toeing across the cold concrete, she notices wood shavings, or is it sawdust, at her feet as she reaches for the door. Her eyes scan the ground around the door and along the house. There are several little piles. Squatting down, she picks it up and rubs it between her fingers. Her feet are numb from the cold, so she drops the dust and heads back inside.
The mid-afternoon sun hugs the garden, encouraging life. The flowers tilt up, drinking in the rays. The blades of grass, dry now, stand a bit taller. Birds take flight. Nora, too, is pulled by the call of the sun. The excitement about the bees earlier this morning has faded some, but she wants to try to get some photos. Within minutes of nuzzling herself back into the lounge chair, she hears the familiar buzzing sound. A smile spreads across her face as she reaches for her phone.
Nora notices the bees keep going back to the overhang of her house. She walks toward the house and feels grit on the bottom of her feet. That weird sawdust again. Scanning the house, she doesn’t see any evidence of where it could be coming from. In the far corner, she spots the bees. They are crawling around holes they have chewed into the wood on her house. Her eyes move from one hole to the next until she finds herself at the other end of the house near the roses. Under the holes she finds even more piles of dust.
She runs a finger through the wood dust on the windowsill. Carpenter bees, not bumblebees. How did I not see this? All of her plans crumbled like the wood pieces on her fingers. Nora’s face falls, and her shoulders drape her body in an attempt to comfort her. The shelf sits shadowed just inside the window. She shifts her eyes toward the shelf and then back at the bees. She drops her head, rubs her temples.
Nora walks back toward the lounge chair; at least she still has that. And the sun. Eyes closed, the rays caress her skin. Bzzzz. Nora, annoyed. “Go on now”, she says, shooing the bee with her hand and closing her eyes back down. A warm tear makes its way down her cheek. She flicks it away. But the bee doesn’t leave; it hovers nearby. Nora watches the bee through the tears collecting in her eyes. The bee raises a leg. Nora tilts her head and whispers, “Hi.”