Mosquitoes
Buzz buzz buzz, though barely audible, the whining sound, then the swishing of my arms to ward off a mosquito woke me from a deep sleep.
It was 5 a.m. sharp as I slipped off the bed into the bathroom. Now that I’m awake, I wish we could get an earlier start and avoid some noontime heat. But Larry’s not budging; my pack mule needs his restorative sleep.
I slept fairly well last night, considering the amount of green wine I drank beforehand. Damn mosquito. Last night too, mosquitoes raided our bedroom, no screens there either, Larry slept as I hunted them with my phone flashlight.
Everyone (I know) had a personal reason to walk the Camino. One acquaintance walked after her step-daughter died of a drug overdose. Another friend had health issues and yet another walked because it was there.
I’m walking ‘the way to Santiago’ as an exercise in gratitude, to pay homage to The Source (God/Allah/The Universe)for the way my life has turned out, and I’m open to lessons, with the stipulation that they not be hard ones. As if.
Ok, but Gratitude for mosquitoes?
* * *
“Mommy, I want to go home,” I whined. I was about six.
“Shush,” she said under her breath before turning back to talk to the other adults at the picnic.
“But Mommy, the mosquitos are biting me.”
She told me there were no mosquitoes, neither her nor my two younger brothers had any bites, and to quit whining.
“Look,” I said and showed her numerous quarter-sized welts on my arm and legs.
She was surprised, yet agitated.
I lived in an old house during my second year of college. Twas Coconut Grove - Miami, Florida. No air conditioning. No screens on the windows either. I slept with the covers pulled up under my chin and OFF mosquito spray covering my hands and face. The whining sound of mosquitoes made me itch, well before they bit.
We were honeymooning in a little casita, my second husband and me, Hope Town, Bahamas. I woke to the buzz buzz of several mosquitoes. Damn it. Can’t sleep, so I popped on the light and went mosquito hunting. They like to hangout on white walls, easy to spot but disgusting when they leave a bloody splat…
At Vipassana we had several rules. One was not to kill another living thing, that includes…drum roll…mosquitoes. I watched our house-mom capture a mosquito on her leg with a cup, slide a piece of paper under it and release the bugger outside.
* * *
“Keep going straight until you see the riddle,” I heard Larry say behind me as we walked treacherously close to head on car traffic.
“Riddle?” I asked.
Again I heard him say “Riddle.”
“Riddle me this.” I laughed.
“River!” Larry annunciated slowly.
And we both laughed.
I no longer get enormous welts from mosquito bites. But I cannot sleep if they are buzzing in my bedroom.
Two nights now.
Before any of my hometown friends are awake we’ll be done with the days projected 21.5 km walk. With plenty of quiet time, I keep wondering, ‘why would a loving God make these fucking, blood sucking, little bastards?’ I mean, ‘why?’
