We were out on a motorcycle trip, me riding passenger, when out of nowhere—a wasp smacked me right between the eyes. Not just a bump. It stung.
Within seconds, I could feel the venom spreading through my sinuses. Burning, odd, uncomfortable in ways I had no words for. And of course, my reaction? Pure panic. I started yelling at my husband to pull over. Except—there was nowhere to pull over. The road dropped straight off the side.
So there I was, clinging to the back of the bike, convinced the wasp venom was about to be my undoing. I was crying, screaming, swearing I was going to die (for the record—I am not allergic).
By the time we finally found a spot to stop, I had calmed down. No dramatic ending, no ER visit. Just me, alive, slightly swollen, and sitting on the side of the road with the realization: this will forever be an “only me” story.
Now, whenever we remember it, we laugh. Hard. Because in the moment, I was so certain it was the end—and looking back, it’s ridiculous. Spirit has a sense of humor, and apparently, so do wasps.
Sometimes I wonder if moments like this are little reminders from Spirit not to take myself quite so seriously. Even when it stings, laughter can be the best healing.
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