The Wasp Who Came for Breakfast (2001)

In 2001, I wrote this short story for a book called The Grace of Small Things: Stories Celebrating the Insect-Human Connection, but I don't know if the book was ever published.

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If you visit my mother’s home in the country, you’ll see on the living room wall a montage of those she fondly calls her “critters.” These photographs feature the animals who frequent her yard seeking sunflower seeds and other delights - birds, deer, squirrels, raccoons, skunks, woodchucks, wild turkeys, even a black bear.

The smallest critter was photographed inside, on her perch on the kitchen windowsill, where she feasted on honey. She was my mother’s resident wasp.

The regulars were all given names, and the wasp was no exception. My mother, Mary Lou, contemplated a WASP name and christened her Babs. Initially, Babs appeared in the kitchen sink frequently, when Mary Lou was washing dishes, so she guessed the wasp was thirsty.

When Babs settled onto the windowsill above the sink, Mary Lou gave her a drop of water, which she drank. On subsequent visits, she gave Babs honey, which she also consumed. In an effort to introduce variety to Babs’ diet, Mary Lou offered her fruit, but Babs preferred the honey.

Every day Babs would fly to her spot at the sill to meet my mother. She arrived when the sun was out, in the early morning or sometimes the afternoon. The wasp waited and watched Mary Lou in anticipation of the water and honey, and Babs never moved when she put them on the sill before her. Mary Lou had always been afraid of being stung by a wasp, but said that, oddly enough, she never felt afraid of Babs. 

While the snow swirled on the other side of the window, Babs stayed warm and dry, dining on fresh water and honey.

In the spring, when Mary Lou started seeing wasps outside, she put Babs on a piece of paper and carried her out the door to the porch. After a moment, Babs flew away, to the tune of my mother’s voice singing “Born Free.”