Many of us slide eagerly down Wednesday’s hump toward Friday. When the last day of our workweek finally arrives, we breathe in deep as if the air is suddenly sweeter and more soothing than whatever else we’ve been breathing. We follow up our posts with TGIF hashtags. And best of all, we feel a sense of solidarity with our fellow man because, regardless of race, gender, religion, or creed, we are all thanking God that it’s Friday.
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Summertime means that bees are out and about pollinating our crops and private gardens and the untamed lots where wildflowers grow. They work hard to collect pollen and nectar, they communicate by dance, and they feed from the honey stored in their delicately crafted honeycomb. As they go about this routine, they can provoke a variety of reactions from people.
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It has been nearly seven years since I landed in Jackson, and in that time I have lived at all three corners of this town’s Kroger Triangle. First I lived on Union’s campus and then in Midtown for a couple years, until eventually moving back north. Then, last summer when the lease was up and I had already given notice at work without knowing the next step, I crashed with my friends Angie and David’s family while I took time to “figure things out” (very millennial of me, no?). For about two months I was unsure of whether or not I would stay in Jackson, but by the end of the summer I was settling in the Lambuth area into a little apartment of my very own.
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