Trixie

First of all, I am not afraid of bugs.  I just like them to keep to their business.  No fear.  Respect.  For all creatures, great and small.

Until, looking up from my morning coffee, I see a very large winged being sitting on the wall across the table from me, and I recognize that winged being to be a wasp.

All that no fear, respect for all creatures great and small, goes straight out the window.  It could fly at me.  I could swing at it. It could become defensive and swoop in, land on my arm, sting me with its nasty stinger!  I could swat it.  It could sting again and again before it dies!

I become aware that, given that it has yet to become airborne and done little more than crawl along the picture rail a foot from the ceiling, I might want to come up with a plan B in dealing with The Wasp Invasion.

I will name it.  I will call it Trixie.  Immediately I notice that I am now interested in seeing what is going on with Trixie.  Is she lost?  She’s been crawling for a while.  I wonder if she is having trouble finding the door.  I open it wide for her.  She doesn’t seem to notice it.  I wave the newspaper to encourage her to fly in the direction of the door.  No deal.  She is going to need more help.  I extend the edge of the newspaper close to her.  Trixie doesn’t seem to consider a ride on a newspaper the avenue to her escape from the kitchen.  I push her with the edge of it, hoping to get her flying in the right direction.  Trixie falls to the floor.  She can’t fly!  I gently scoop her up onto the newspaper and set her outside.  I wish Trixie well and close the door.  Trixie on the outside and me and my coffee inside.

I share this little saga because it has me wondering if giving the thing that has become an issue in our lives a name that makes it seem less threatening is a way to make it approachable. Might allow for a shift in perspective, for new information to come in, new solutions.

I won’t mind if you borrow the name of my wasp.  I’m pretty sure Trixie will be okay with it too.