Interesting Folks

Becoming My Mother

My mother was always a free spirit.

I’ve always been curious about the unknown; the things that lurk in darkness. My earliest memory is proof of this sometimes dangerous trait. When I was about 3-years-old, I spotted a beehive nestled in the crook of low-lying tree branches.

While my mother sat on the nearby porch talking with several of her friends, I could not resist picking up a stick and poking it into the hive; stirring it like it was cake batter. Within moments those bees flew straight up my dress.

I don’t know who was screaming the loudest — me, my mother, or all of the ladies on the porch — but I’d be willing to bet those screams could be heard from Atlanta to Savannah.

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