It was one of those long circular discussions but in the end Clara agreed, no pet bees would be living in the house.
Had Jane been paying attention to our conversation, rather than cowering and screaming each time an escapee honey bee from the two packages in the back of the truck whizzed near her, she would have been relieved.
Even I, the one who brought the idea of beekeeping and then the bees into our life, draw the line at house bees.
But neither of us could stop Clara from dreaming and wondering… What if she could hold still enough that one would land on her… and maybe stay on her hand during dinner… and she could feed it some honey… and if it was there at breakfast she could give it a little more…
“What if… Mom… What if…”
Clara listened to what needed to be done. She watched as John and I installed the first hive and then grabbing her own little hive tool, did it herself on the second.
As the final bees got shook out of their box and into the hive, she caught some on her glove, “What if just one of them stayed on my hand Mom…”