Have Bees Will Travel

The three girl cousins roamed the yard like fireflies in the dying light. We said goodbye. I cried myself to sleep at four in the morning and woke up seven hours later with my cheeks newly wet. We discovered Indy, who wants to change her name to Tinkerbell, had left her teddy bear at my parent's house. The teddy bear was a special gift for the road trip so we drove back to Denver to get it. The rain had passed. I stopped crying for a little while and the sky looked like this. No two things make beauty like prairie and storm. After hours of crying so vigorously that my eyes swelled like I'd been hit with a fist, I got a terrible case of the giggles. We watched TV in the dusk and after all those tearful goodbyes, the manufactured drama was hilarious. The polygamists on the television kissed their stepsons and had emotional breakdowns on live TV and plotted to kill their brothers and I laughed through it all. The wisdom of my body, seeking balance. 

Tomorrow night we'll sleep in St. Louis.

The bees will be in the back seat, screened and

draped in tulle like thirteen thousand little brides.