Pony – Tail Hot and humid, the air clung to Norm as a glad trash bag would a soggy body. No breeze and the sun hung from a gold chain to the sky with rays like fyre clawing toward Sparta. That in itself would explain the 105 temperature on this mid-July day. Sky clear blue like the eyes of a newborn Siamese with sounds of millions of bumblebees dancing through it. Four boxes in the middle of an open field were the source and Norm’s job was to keep them busy at all hours of the day. “Say, you young wild insects, what’s on yur mind’s today?” he paused to allow for the insect’s plausible answer. His net covered his entire face and his khaki ‘suit’ made for winter attire in the middle of this Indian summer in central Kentucky. Though miserable with perspiration and a dying heart, he walked the mile from home to filed every morning, noon, and nite to pay homage to those that made his life’s blood. “Intrestin’ day iddn’t it young bees . . . intrestin’ day” his voice wandered into the soggy air as his hands did the everyday duty of keeping the bees and his family at ease. First his gloved right hand delved into the rear portion of the fourth box, drawing out a filter of honeycomb the bees had spent days previous making complete. As the filter rose from the cube the bees began to swarm. This was normal. They landed on his nose, his head, and arms- every limb noticeable to the naked eye when a man if fully clothed. They were his friends, his comrades, and compatriots- his escape. To do his job was to be a good husband though, and a good father. . . .a good man. Norm was a good man . . . for the most part. Norm was 5’8” lanky little man whose straw-like hair flowing in the pony tail to his back often characterized him completely as a person, and the beekeeper of Sparta. When you saw Norm strolling down past the local appliance store or from filed to home home to field, his dangling pony-tail is what named him- he was Norm; ex-hippie, ex-biker, ex-wild child who chose to tie himself down when Darcy got pregnant and she chose the wilder life. Norm was strong in his convictions and flushed his stash down the toilet and sold the Harley to buy little Rae-Anne a baby-bed. Even though she slept with Darcy and Norm nine times out of ten, he liked to brag to Spartans that he was able to buy his baby girl a bed before she hit 3 years old. The black and yellow insects swarmed above, below, and through him. He sighed and smiled to himself because this, this right here- being with the bees in the middle of an empty field with no expectations, no disappointments and only memories to keep him company- was peace. The incessant buzzing gave him a rhythm he otherwise never had, and an attention he lacked and yearned for in his everyday life. “”Norman?” A woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts of years gone by- years spent with Maggie on the back of the Harley holding on tight like there was no tomorrow, with the wind blowing through their hair and the scenery flashing by them like they were Jack Kerouac on the road. He often thought of Maggie on days like this, imagined that in this sweltering 105 heat she would be sitting behind another handsome young man with her hands tied around him like they were once around Norm. She cleared her throat to attempt to gain his attention again, for he was still lost in those thoughts. Her voice had only furthered the reminisce, for it was a silky smooth thing from the city- full of pretension in its correct diction, yet gentle and kind to after flowing through a natural air. He didn’t even look up. Replacing the honeycomb into its slot, he stepped away and began to walk toward her- head down focused on stripping the large gloves off his hands. She remained silent- fully expecting his actions to answer his ways. The bees were silent now, as though respecting some piece of nostalgia that they were truly unaware of, and he continued toward the smooth voice across the way. Taking the net of his head, the pony- tail and smile were seen on his face, still looking at the ground. One more step and he was so close their noses nearly touched. She smelled of Wind Song and city life, and as he looked at her shoes, heels. . . city girl heels, he closed his eyes and laughed a bit to himself. Looking up, their eyes met. Norm peered straight past her glowing brown eyes into the past they had shared years and years ago, a past that had shaped them into the beings they were now. He smiled and never left her glance as she ran her hand behind his head to grab his pony-tail. With a smirk on her face, ready to comment on his little indication of his grasp on the memory, Norman broke through his contrived and constrained lifestyle. He placed his parched dry lips over her Revlon covered smooth counterparts, and they kissed like they hadn’t in 20 years, and they hadn’t. They were making up for lost time. And now, they would have to pay the consequences.