the wasp and I

I went out on a long bike ride with Emma on the handlebar seat.  We got out of town, and by the fifth kilometre or so, we were surrounded by about four wasps, that started making threatening circles and nose dives right by my face, arms and legs.  I was terrified.  I biked really fast (or whatever one can call really fast on a retro 3 speed bike) and tried to get rid of the unwanted intruders, but they followed me into town.  For the entire five kilometres, they did their intimidating circling around my head.  I was already imagining Emma in full anaphylactic attack, so far away from the hospital and help…as we really live in the middle of nowhere, and when you get out of town, you are alone, just you and the wasps/bears/moose/etc. 

We made it home unharmed.  When I got into the kitchen, I found a wasp on the netting by the kitchen window.  It was buzzing about quietly, and although I briefly entertained some murderous thoughts, mainly consisting of entrapment between my double windows and death by starvation, I decided to let the insect live.  

Later on, as I went to get a snack, the wasp was eating the sugar off my countertop where I had cut up some melon.  I put my African violets in a water bath in the sink, and went back to the living room.  

An hour later, the wasp had drowned in the water bath.  And, inexplicably, I felt sad.  I let it go down the drain and watched as its little wings fluttered in the water current, and wished that it hadn't died.  As if, by allowing it to live, I had somehow bonded to it.  

And I am not on any hormonal treatment either. 

Life is weird.