In the middle of the deck, I see you crouched down next to your bike. At first, it looks like you’re picking up something small—maybe a lost contact lens? But when you stand up again, I see a bumblebee resting in your hands, cupped gently like a tiny bowl.
It buzzes anxiously, its legs scraping at its body as if trying to wipe something away.
“Maybe it needs to cool down after being on that hot deck,” I say, fascinated.
“She’ll be okay,” you reply calmly, as if reassuring the bee more than me.
I suggest trying a little water. You nod and ask me to grab a bottle from your bag hanging on the handlebars. Carefully, I pour a few drops into your hands, making sure not to submerge the bee.
Our eyes meet briefly, and I smile.
“She’ll be fine,” you say again—this time to me.
“You should look up the spiritual meaning of a bumblebee,” I tease.
With a friendly grin, you reply, “I will. Thanks, bee-helper.”
I turn back to my friend—we’re on our way to a Banksy exhibition. You’re still standing next to your bike, the bee resting quietly in your palms. When you catch me looking again, you say,
“She’s already much calmer.”
The ferry is nearing the dock.
“Are you going to set her down over there?” I ask, pointing to a planter in the distance.
You nod. “Want me to help with your bike?” I offer.
As the ramp lowers and the horn sounds, everyone begins to disembark. I follow you off the ferry, pushing your bike and dangling bag behind you.
Carefully, you place the bee among the bushes.
“I think you earned some extra karma points today,” I say.
You smile broadly. “Thanks for your help,” you call out as you ride away.
“You’re welcome,” I call back.
My day is made.
© E n i s ∞ r
The spiritual meaning of the bumblebee: cleaning up, starting over and realizing dreams.
