There we were.
Taking a leisurely walk along the path, in the hills behind our campsite.
Strolling along, enjoying the ocean view. Up at Leo Carrillo State Beach, near Malibu.
The only setback was the Radio Flyer wagon I decided to drudge along, so that three year old Brad could kick back, while I pulled him down the dirt trail.
Well, better than having to hold him.
The going was slow, but that was okay.
It really was all about the experience.
Not about… What a mistake! [it was to bring that darn wagon with us].
Anyway, I was moving a bit slower than my brother, his boys, and my two older kids.
Yanking on the wagon’s handle.
Yelling to them.
Telling them I was fine.
Just keep going.
When suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, I heard a buzz!
A loud buzz!
I shook Brad out of his relaxed state.
His humming stopped.
When I screamed, literally screamed.
Now, I am by no means afraid of bees, but this one caught me off guard.
It must have liked the smell of my day-old hair.
Because it began to swirl around my head, near my ear.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzzing!
Next thing I knew, I was no longer way back behind the others.
I was passing them.
Yanking that little red wagon behind me.
Very aware that Brad was hanging on for dear life.
I ran down the winding-rock-filled-dirt path.
Just wanting to get away from the buzzing! bee.
Oh. My. Gosh.
Run! Move! Do something!
A bee! is chasing me!
My running, my yelling, caused everyone else to panic.
They started running, too.
All freaked out.
And then. The bee was gone.
Got bored of teasing, I guess.
I was breathing hard.
Trying to figure out why I lost control because of a little buzzing! bee.
Then I sat.
Right down in the middle of the dirt path.
Couldn’t believe I just did what I did.
Zoomed a Brad filled Radio Flyer down a winding dirt path.
Just to steer clear of a buzzing! bee.
Pushing the others out of the way.
Trying to save myself.
And then, everyone else laughed, too.
Except for Brad.
He was crying.
I scared him.