Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Magical Thinking

A light breeze wafted over the platform, though it was still overly warm, even into the early evening. As I waited for my train, barely focused on my book, a bee, a large honeybee, landed on the white linen of my shirt.

Someone else might have jumped in anxiety, and shooed the bee away, but instead, I was fascinated by it. It held on with its front two legs, as the back legs rubbed one another, as if to pollinate the fabric. His abdomen looked so soft and fuzzy, lightly striped with brown on gold. His wings were clear, veined with honey, and his eyes studied the linen intently. I wanted to keep him with me, he seemed so happy there.

And then the train arrived, and I hesitated. I didn't want the bee to leave me, but I was afraid that if I just got on the train, he might fly around the cabin and scare or annoy other people. I was running late, so I stepped to the train door and tried to gently brush him from my shirt.

And he clung on.

After a few soft, unsuccessful nudges, someone saw my dilemma, and reached over, flicking the bee to the platform neatly in one gesture. I was grateful to have freed the bee, but sad that he'd been pushed aside so ungraciously. I thanked the man anyway, got on and sat down.

I can't stop thinking about the bee, how beautiful he was. And though I'm not given to superstition or otherworldly belief, I feel as though the bee was a sign. A sign of what? I can't say. I wish I could find him again and say, "I'm sorry you were pushed like that." Or ask him a question. I wonder what would have happened if I'd taken him with me. Would he have followed me to Back Bay? Would he have been lost? I guess I'll never know.

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