Awakened by the smell of virgin honey, Christik woke up in the flurry to complement the bees in his nest. In boiled water, he dropped a Rose Black tea bag and as it hit the lake, the ripple rushed a dark floral color to the rest of the cup. He ran outside to collect nectar but he noticed something odd. There was already a masked body inspecting the honey combs on the frames.
“Hey, you. You’re on my property. You’re trespassin”.
The empty response quizzed the teenager further and approached the hands of the white suit-
“Son, these are good honey combs.” The wrinkles and brood strength of his fingers took a heated knife and sliced through the frames; he broke off a piece and followed it underneath his mask. “Mmm, great Georgia honey”. Salivating, Christik walked closer. But he first wanted an apology.
“You were gone for four months. You told me only two.”
The father took a super and the repellent that helped enclose a box without sting; he took one glance at his son who’s eyes were holding its last moments of dry calm. Instead of being unresponsive and letting the title of “Provider” become his stubborn strength, he succumbed to his son’s presence. His height gathered Christik’s head at his torso and with a firm grip, he squeezed his son’s arms as he bent to meet him face to face.
“Son, I’m sorry. Winter is coming earlier every year and ya’ know how it’s been tough for your momma and you. I sold all of our frames and the roots of our bees tend to be scrapin’ the saliva in errybody’s mouth. Goodness, even the Drifert’s complimented us and ya’ know how much bigger their bee farms are than us. Mr. Forner gave me a job at his shop- saw the Buick’s and Ford’s pull up. I was a thinkin’, “Golly, only if Christik saw these- his mouth would be droppin lower than the hood of them cars.” I’m proud of ya boy. You done your mom well and me well. Your prayers are from Heaven above and the Good Lord looketh upon you and He with you son. Go wake up your mom and let’s give her the blessin’ of this honey.”
Christik felt once again like a child in front of his father and like a man for having done a job well done. He brushed off any remnants of salty water from his eyes and quickly moved the balls of his feet to call forth his mom.
The father trailed behind his newly restored son. He headed towards the smell of the tea that steeped ripely. He took another fragmented honey comb and swirled its solid state into the steaming water. Both of its natures were changing into a lava-like density and changed the ephemeral black tea into a golden tone of circulating wonder. He heard the rampant steps of an excited boy and then the gentle grace of a lover’s footsteps coming down from the stairs.
“Honey, you’re back”.