There is an Emily Dickinson poem called “Bee! I’m expecting you!”
Somewhere around my due date I was organizing all of Roland’s new books and I happened upon it. I recall being big and impatient at the time (that was my rapper name).
Anyway, I read the poem and couldn’t get over how approrpriate it was to my current state. What were the chances I would read this poem about a bee being “expect[ed],” and “due” so close to the due date of my own little creature? In fact, the first two stanzas of the poem were almost verbatim what I had been saying to my son over the past few days.
HEY, I’M EXPECTING YOU!
So, of course, like the millennial I am, I took a photo of it and posted it on Instagram with the caption “A perfect poem from the poetry book Auntie Niki got us.”
But at the time I didn’t actually realize just how perfect this poem was for us.
I found this poem again this morning in yet another children’s poetry book (are children a huge part of the Dickinson demographic?). When I read the last stanza I was nearly dumbfounded.
You’ll get my Letter by
The seventeenth; Reply
Or better, be with me–
And what was it that happened on the 17th of December? Oh right, my little “bee” got “my letter” and chose the latter.
And I couldn’t be happier.