The package didn’t look like any of the other Christmas
gifts I had received at the Saipan post office.
Someone had taped the whole entire package with clear shipping tape that
wasn't even sticking to the box anymore. What probably started out to be your everyday
square brown box looked like it had traveled through 3 months of a rainy season
in Central America, the cardboard corrugations splitting and frayed, and the
box itself squashed into the shape of a trapezoid. Upon opening this
road-worn visitor, my hands stuck to something and wouldn’t let go. The bubble wrap was soaked with a sticky
liquid the color of sunshine and smelled of the first hint of Spring after a
long cold bitter winter. I unwrapped a
portion of the bubbles (none of which popped, as each bubble had happily
consumed its weight in bee-sap) and within found a ziplock containing a less
than half-filled
bottle of Watkins Apalachicola Tupelo Honey that had a cracked plastic lid
scarcely hanging on to its last screw! I think the remainder of the honey
must be dripped along the entire 49 states, Hawaii, and Guam and
mixed like caramel swirls in cake batter with the cold blue currents of the
Pacific Ocean! I envision the poor postal carrier that was on his last shred
of patience striving to get everyone's packages to them in time for X-mas. Working overtime and muttering to himself
about how he didn't even get his bonus this year because of the economy
and how Santa gets all the credit. Then coming
across my wet, sticky, wilting box and him ending up with tacky hands for the
rest of his route and cursing Apalachicola FL and Siapan MP, the names posted
in bleading ink, smeared with a golden-hued substance, the unforgettable
fragrance of Tupelo blossoms drooping lazily over the Apalachicola River
wafting towards his cold nose, and after licking his fingers with curiosity,
must have forgiven us for ruining his favorite blue nylon uniform. He proceeds to cover the failing
cardboard with an equally sticky tape in hopes of combating whatever was
mysteriously oozing from the corners and went on with his business of making a
customer halfway across the world truly the most blessed of persons this
holiday season. He could have just as easily opened the package, deemed
it un-shippable and hazardous, tossed it, and sent me a sterile postcard in its
place. But during this sticky situation
some semblance of Christmas spirit won over his tired feet, his kind heart must
have spoke to him and whispered how I longed for a taste of my favorite
swamp. A taste that connected me with my
kinfolk, my beekeeper friends George & Miss Carla Watkins & Jimmy
Moses, and that most special of all places where my heart lies--the
floodplains, tributaries, barrier islands, blackwaters, bays, and fishing
villages of Apalachicola, Florida.
Once I finally figured out what was inside this ball of
bubbling beespit, I immediately mourned the loss of more than 1 lb. worth of
pure simple & sweet ecstasy. But being a glass jar is half
full rather than half empty kind of person, I quickly went about recovering the
losses. I carefully removed the heavy-with-honey bubble wrap and gingerly
licked the essence of Apalachicola from one of the bubbles. I
looked from side to side guiltily in my empty apartment like a child that knows
she is about to do something wrong but feels oh so right about it. Finding no-one there to judge me, I proceeded
to devour and suck the life out of that syrupy saran-wrap, a few meek pops in
protest is all it had left in it after the long, wet trip from Florida to the
South Pacific. I laughed in pure delight
as though I was 3 years old again.
Tupelo honey dripped down my chin and vivid images of Winnie-the-Pooh
stuck in a honey tree, hind paws and bulbous yellow bear-bum wriggling out of a
hollow and crying for Christopher Robin’s help crossed my mind as my giggle
intermingled with popping sounds. I’m
here to tell ya, I licked that bubble wrap so clean the ants in my apartment
couldn’t track it down.
New Years Eve in Saipan, I sit here alone sipping my tea,
adorned with the sweetest tasting Apalachicola Tupelo honey I’ve ever had
yet. They say in life, the taste is
sweeter when hard won and believe me when I say this honey has paid its’
dues. But then again, so have I; I guess
that is why I appreciate it as much as I do.
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