Way back when we were children there was a huge field between the back of our yard and the creek.
Each spring the field grass would grow waist high, and bloom with the most beautiful dainty flowers.
and the bees would come.
It was a scary thing to hear and see...the field alive with a bazillion buzzing bees.
My big sister eyed the field and disappeared into the house and returned with a jar of jam and a 1/2 a loaf of bread.
She explained her theory, as she sloppily applied jam to two slices. "If you walked straight though the grass, with arms out stretched, the bees will ignore you and go after the jam instead. This way we can get to the creek to play without getting stung."
I eyed my sister, then the hovering mass of darkness and buzzing death.
I step aside so she could test her theory.
She grinned that 'you must obey me I'm the older sister' smile of hers and held the bread out to me.
"I will walk next to you." she said with confidence "this will work."
I take the bread and close my eyes and take a deep breath. gaaaahh I haaate bugs.
"Ready?" she smiled again and stood at the edge of the field, with one foot poised to step in.
oooh hell no...I am not doing this. I start to hand the bread back to her.
I hear laugher from behind as one of my brothers shoves me. It all happens so fast that my sister doesn't have time to follow me.
I'm off screaming like a maniac and running like a bat outta hell. The bees parted like the red sea before me, and in short order I found myself on the creek side of the field with two slices of mashed bread clenched in my hands and jam dripping between my fingers.
....wait, how am I getting back?
Before I can open my mouth to holler back the question, I see them all coming, arms out stretched and jam blobs flying off as they run to me.
...My hysterical laughter seers the memory to my heart.