I'd like to take you back to the first time I met him. The blue eyed boy.
    It was mid July and I was on my driveway reading some cheesy romantic novel. From an outsider, it would appear that I was strange. I mean who in the name of Frankenstein, would read some six hundred page book as a job well done from junior year? Well let's face it. It's me, of course.

    I am what you'd call a book geek. As far as nobody calls me a 'book worm or teachers pet', I will gladly accept that title. Any who, well I was about two chapters away from finding out if Matt Summers had gotten his final wish. I was so engrossed into the story, that I spaced all the noises around me out. All except for a slight buzz around my ears. Other than that I was done for.

_____PAUSE_____ (okay now you can continue)

   My eyes traveled into new dimensions and I was spinning in a field of wondrous thoughts. I was at ease, one could say. Until it happened. I turned the page and it was only getting better by each word that had been printed on this insanely, heart wrenching love story.

I wiped a stray tear that had escaped my blood shot eyes. And ran my free hand over my shoulder to scratch my back. In that moment something had occurred to me. And truthfully, I hadn't learned it from a book or even the one I was nearly finished with.

Well at first I realized that there was a bee that kept buzzing. It was like an infestation at happened and I was the lost ice cream scope that fell on the floor.
  There was one, and then there were five bees. Now, I'm in that category of a 'Tom Boy'. And bugs are awesome. Love them and all but, bees have always ticked me off.

  I mean to say that I have been stung several times in my legs and granted my face. To me it was the flutter of that black yellow sweat bee was taunting me. I get it. It's all in my imagination. Right? Sure, it is.

There was something something unsettling about that buzz. I respect them, I just don't particularly love them to pieces.

                       ♦♦♦♦
    Back to the bees. They kept buzzing on and on. Like a secret tribal celebration. And I was the one caught up in the middle of it. Truth be told, I did not like it one bit.
   Though with bees, I've learned that they like their space. So, you've got to act like you're around a dinosaur.

Just think about it. If you saw a T-Rex, what would you do? Would you A: Run in the opposite direction? Would you B: Crouch down low. So it couldn't reach you with it's minuscule baby arms? Or C: Stand deathly still. As your if your life depended on it?

Want to know what I'd pick? Well, I am going to tell you either way, I just thought it would be polite to ask your opinion. Okay. Point C, would be the correct answer. Whoo hoo, 100 points to the lady with the bees flying around her body! Yea me:(

That's right. You have to concentrate so immensely. That even if you peed yourself, you'd have to push through that. Like the game you learn in grade school: Concentration 64. You have to have no repeats or hesitations.

  In the system of bees. It's like a staring contest at pretty much anything, but the bees. Or being tagged the in the first few minutes of freeze tag. You have to stay there, until your legs turn to jelly and your arms weigh like boulders.

  In that moment. That terrible fate. I was met with freezing cold water!
   My hair soaked so much that it looked like a cat that had fallen in a puddle. My white cut off tee and black running shorts drenched. From the very tip top of my blue hair to the now shriveled toes that my skin was absorbing.

   In that pause. Time had shifted like an hour glass being turned over and the relapse continuing. In that hairline fracture of milliseconds, I met him. He was like a fireman coming to the rescue. And with no fear in his own body. A muscle machine transforming into my hero.

The funny thing is, that I never actually caught his name that day. For right then, that blistering mid July day. I was met with a boy who had the strongest grip on a lawn hose that I have ever seen. And to top it off, I didn't actually figure what Matt Summers last wish was in that cheesy love story.

When I thanked him for helping me not die, by being attacked by a swarm of bees. I would hope that any person with the right sense would. But, when I left to go in for lunch, I found that my 'beloved' book was goner like my clothes.

   All I could think of was the boy with the blue eyes.

Copyrighted MyTimeWasYesterday