All I was trying to do was paint and pray outside. How simple and romantic. Unfortunately, there was one glitch in my plans: one bloodthirsty, plucky mosquito.
It began innocent enough. I was humming along, changing the lyrics to popular melodies so that they became prayers of sorts. After arranging all my materials, I then mixed peach with purple watercolors, ready to find peace in the pieces of today’s sticky afternoon.
She’s the queen of quarantine!
Then the queen swatted something in the air. No big deal. I must’ve scared it away with the brush of my hand, because that’s how it works. Flies are more scared of me than I am of them.
Until I turned my head to see a mosquito sucking the blood from my arm. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t scream. Just a little. But still. It really would’ve been fine until THE MOSQUITO WOULDN’T GO AWAY. It was like it had a personal vendetta. I’d run inside, totally believing it’d be gone when I went out again, but two more seconds painting and it was onto me–or on me–once again.
It didn’t leave me the whole afternoon, even after I ran in my house like five times AND sprayed DEET. Did this bug even care for it’s own well-being? Didn’t it get enough food the first draw? Somehow, I persisted to the end of my painting, but I have never been so stressed while doing something so actively relaxing. (Okay, well, maybe not never.)
I really want to make some sweeping gesture about this. How it taught me to persevere or get over it or choose a different weather to sit beneath trees. But I’m not sure I’ve learned anything yet. Is this even Michelle? Unsure. Come back next time to see if I’ve somehow transcended all of this.
Bye for now!
P.S. this was supposed to be an exercise in stillness, so cue the irony because I haven’t run that much in months. Also, I have a bite showing already. 😦 Stay safe, y’all!