christmasjones

I just caught the biggest bumblebee I have ever seen. It was buzzing around the house. Fun. As Sara screamed in terror I wondered if she was being held at gunpoint. Of course she could defend herself against thuggish attackers. But small insects? Not happening.

I remember being a child throwing rocks at bee nests. More often than not it was a game that always ended badly. Yet I flirted with danger time and time again. Oh and the ants. Please don't forget those poor bastards. One year I took my chemistry set and poisoned a nest. There was something about watching sulfer dioxide melt an ants body that intrigued me. The yellow patch of grass in the front yard didn't amuse my mother. No more chemistry sets for me. She didn't understand. I was at war. The ants were the enemy. I was a giant. Ants were savage creatures. Those bugs had trophy heads from other enemy ant colonies built in piles around their holes. Empty carcasses of bees, millipedes, and grasshoppers lay waste on their mounds like broken cars in a trailer park. It was my mission to defend the yard. It was my duty to defend my house from these violent demons. Looking back, it seems the ants weren't really the problem. They were
victims of my problem.

That was years ago when I was a young boy.

The enemy has changed.
I have changed.
The war still rages.
At war with myself.
My demons.