My late Grandpa, the man who spun wild tales of buried treasure and promised me the world, left me with what felt like the biggest disappointment: a dusty old apiary. Who leaves their grandchild an insect-infested shack? I thought it was some cruel joke until the day I finally looked inside the beehives.
It was a normal morning when Aunt Daphne, peering over her glasses at the mess on my bed, urged me to pack for school. I was busy texting my friend Chloe and ignoring her, but she was firm, reminding me that Grandpa had hoped for me to be strong and independent, and that the beehives weren’t going to tend themselves.
I remembered the happy times with Grandpa, the honey, and the bees, but my mind was on the upcoming school dance and my crush Scott, so I promised I’d check the hives “maybe tomorrow.” Aunt Daphne warned me that tomorrow never comes for me and insisted I take care of Grandpa’s apiary, but I snapped at her, saying I had better things to do than tend to bees, which made her sad, but I rushed off to catch the bus, annoyed at the responsibility.
The next day, Aunt Daphne scolded me again for ignoring my chores and grounded me for shirking my responsibility with the bees. I complained about being scared of getting stung, but she told me I’d wear protective gear and that a little fear was normal but couldn’t stop me.Read More Below
