There is a bee who keeps visiting me at the table outside by the road. Garage door to my right, it’s as though I’m on the wrong side of the wall. I’ve been taught to fear such a small, winged creature – he’s just searching for food, or rest, or a quiet moment. How can wings which flap so quickly in flight stand entirely still? If I didn’t know they moved I would think them static.
Sharing a table with those who bring some discomfort. Making space for small things.
We only clash in the moment where we decide each other to be a danger. Until then, we are are working side by side. There is no need to fight for space because there is more than enough. We are both out of element. Strangers together. Leaving and returning again and again until there is a reason to stay away. A grander calling? Or the loss of a table?
The goodbye is like the greeting – a surprise, a shock, a recognition that we are both here.