When my grandma was in her later years, she bequeathed me one of her most prized possessions…her bee story. She told me I have the right (and duty) to carry on this most precious story. However, it won’t be quite as funny until I’m an elderly woman.
When dinner was winding down, sometimes Grandma would call everyone together to listen to her story. She would say, “I was walking through the garden one day and a little bee landed on my finger. As I stood watching the bee, I thought, ‘Maybe it is a mother bee. Maybe she has tiny baby bees at home waiting for her.
And then the damn thing stung me.'”
(If anyone can remember a more accurate rendition of this story, please tell me!)
Sally Stratford 