A bit over a year ago, I became known as “Honeybee” to a very small, but important segment of the population. Lyla was born in April and is my first grandchild. This week finds me in Elizabeth City-a very large rabbit patch-and Lyla’s hometown.
Lyla was born on an Easter Sunday morning. While staying with her mom, that April, I noticed that Elizabeth City was a beautiful town, with a tremendous amount of culture-and it is full of rabbits. I have spent a good deal of time here, since that Easter Sunday and a bit over a year later, I find Elizabeth City as charming as ever- and still full of rabbits.
I became known as “Honeybee” because of a silly rhyme I made up. Lyla laughed some of her first laughs over the nonsense and I became her honeybee because of it.
The business of being a honeybee is a lovely one and I take it very seriously. Thank Goodness I am not in it alone as there are plenty of people to love Lyla and they all come bearing gifts-beautiful gifts, at that.
July is not the best time for strolling. Today we waited til there was no shine left in the sun and it was cooler-but there were bugs of all sorts that had waited as well. We didn’t stay out long, but we did hear a mockingbird. We saw pink clouds and smelled freshly cut grass, too.
My friend Rae, is waiting for her first grandchild-any minute now. I remembered waiting for Lyla. The first time I held her, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude. I hoped I would be a good grandmother, but I was quite unsure of how to proceed. I never let on, but I was nervous. It is common for a new parent to be nervous-but it never occurred to me that becoming a grandmother would be.
I wondered what in the world I was supposed to do for her in the big scheme of things. What would I have to contribute to this precious child? As it turns out, I decided she deserved the best and set out to consider what that meant. I thought about it while I was hanging diapers out, so Lyla and her mom could take a nap. I considered it while a good supper simmered and would be ready when her dad came home from work. I thought about it when she and I were sitting in the cool shade of a magnolia and again when we strolled by the river and heard it sing a lazy song.
When we see a flower, we stop everytime to smell it. I sing beautiful songs to her and she listens-and I recite rhymes full of nonsense and she laughs. As it turns out, I realise that I am telling her about the things that I love and maybe that is what it means to be a “Honeybee”. In one way or another, we are all telling each other about the things we love.
I finally know that listening to a mockingbird in the twilight of a July evening is a lovely thing and worth sharing. I am glad that becoming a “honeybee” helped me remember. First chance I get, I am telling Rae.