Never Again-That Night fly to honey
I remember sitting in the back yard watching the bees and the butterflies compete over who got the rights to each honey suckle flower on the bush in the back yard. Dad would storm in and out of the house doing some thing or another mumbling about how to avoid doing something else. There I sat listening instead to the quiet flutter and the gentle buzz of all those tiny wings.
He sat down beside me with a lawn chair and a beer. Cracked it open and persisted fuming. I started to tell him how neat it was all the bees and the butterflies. He kept swatting them away I kept trying to show him how to catch them. Finally he gave up trying to explain to me that they would hurt if they stung and that I should stick to trying to catch the more difficult butterflies. He instead showed me an easier way, if I had the patience. He poured out some of his beer onto the inside of a frisbee and laid it out by the bush. We waited and watched. He told me I didn't have to be quiet I just had to leave it alone and watch it from time to time.
It took a long time before the frisbee was covered with bees and butterflies, but for the most part after that the bees had the bush and the butterflies were much easier to catch.
Dad kept drinking though, and mostly talking to himself. I heard him ask no one in particular what to do about her and all those chores she always asked of him. I told him she was trouble, I told him to leave her alone. But like a fly to honey so too a man to a vindictive ex wife.