A perfect Saturday and a class filled to the brim, out on the balcony looking out into the trees and telephone wires; the creek below, listening to the sounds of birds, and a couple squirrels arguing over trunk space. With the snow finally gone it’s time to enjoy this space once more, but something has changed. There are bees living in the white chairs with the comfortable green cushions. I’ve swept away the leaves, the dirt, and brushed cobwebs from the walls, but still they claim the space to be theirs. I try to ignore them and spend time deep into the book i’m reading for the fourth time. The type of book that feels like it’s only little home, where aliens and crime solving mingle together along with scotch and Lady Death.
Below the balcony no one would know the battle taking place above. As Mr. Smith drinks his whiskey and looks out to the same view i’d like to enjoy, just from a different perspective. Up here it’s a battlefield. A broom in my hand swerves as a sword, a gun, a cannon, and also as a broom, because a couple spots were missed during the initial sweeping. The bees are strong in number, but not as strong as a Libman broom. I swat them into the walls and out into the world, hoping one doesn’t fall into Mr. Smith’s glass of neat whiskey, black label, the bottle given to him by his son for this 65th birthday. He was expecting blue.
I’ve waited too long to give up this space on the first day of its return to me. The cold month’s of Rochester were never ending, record breaking, and a couple times the car door froze shut and that was pretty annoying. The cold of this city kept me inside, binge watching shows i’d never thought i’d see, movies I didn’t really want to watch. I kept telling myself i’d read after one more episode, but without the balcony it was just too hard to look away. Now the world has thawed and the sun is bringing everyone out into its arms. Unfortunately some territories have been taken, and this battle is far from over. They’ll bring reinforcements, maybe even cause some of this week’s grocery money to include Wasp-Bee-Gone. There will be no milk this week.
For now it seems as if we’re in a resting phase, or their just gathering more men. I’m a few chapters in at this point and not sure if the detective really knows what’s going on either.
By Dan Leicht Saturday May 9th 2015