Mosquitos love me. They always have. If I forget to put on my signature scent of “eau-du-bug repellent” I am covered in bites within minutes.
One day in the red rocks of Arizona I was bit particularly badly. I woke up covered in bites and more kept coming. I was eight years old and miserable. I remember sobbing as I tried not to scratch.
My father hugged me tightly and said, “It’s ok, little girl.”
“It’s not ok! The mosquitos keep biting me!”
“It’s because you are so sweet.” he replied
“I DON’T WANT TO BE SWEET!!” I wailed.
My father laughed. It was a big laugh, the rare ones that took us by surprise. We were used to his soft chuckles when his eyes would twinkle and his whole body shook but he barely made a sound. But every now and then we got a big laugh. A laugh we could actually hear and this was one.
He hugged me closer to him as he laughed. I pouted. He kissed my forehead and said, “I’m sorry, sweetie. I promise you’ll feel better.”
It was our tradition on family vacations to stop at every Dairy Queen we saw. Or at least it felt that way. I remember eating extra oreo blizzards that trip.
These days mosquitoes make me far less miserable. When I’m bit I feel the familiar pinch and then the slow spreading of an itch on my upper leg, arm, or foot. I resist the urge to scratch and wait until the big splotchy white bumps appear. Conversations, events, or reading continue as I pull afterbite from my purse–my favorite summer accessory–and quickly dab the bumps. If I’m lucky they are gone in a few hours. If I’m not the white bumps turn to red and I shake my head every time I see my tanned legs tarnished by swollen red bumps. When this happens I think of my dad and remind myself that I am bitten because I’m so sweet.
Now that the summer is coming to a close and the air is beginning to smell like fall, I take comfort in the last few mosquito bites. A reminder of warm summer breezes, lazy days at the park, my overflowing sweetness, and most importantly, my dad’s laughter.
