Bumblebees are excellent workers, tirelessly maintaining their nests while pollinating plants and flowers. A significant study from Queen Mary University of London discovered that these social insects do more than work all day. They also take time to play.
Researchers observed bumblebees engaging in joyful chase games, tumbling through the air in lighthearted loops. This remarkable finding highlights that insects and humans share the need for play between hard work and suggests that the ability to find moments of joy and laughter might be more fundamental to life than we previously thought.
My parents, now 83 and 78, have spent their lives farming. Decades of working with crops and livestock have left their hands calloused and backs bent, yet their love for each other and our family remained strong.
Every weekend, music and laughter filled our house as we grew up. Mom would sit at the old upright piano, her fingers skillfully moving across the keys as she played cheerful tunes. Dad would stand next to her, his rich baritone voice blending in harmony as he sang timeless melodies. These moments of music and togetherness brightened our lives and became unforgettable memories.
But life has its challenges. When times got tough in their 30s, my parents decided to sell the piano to make ends meet. The music stopped, but their love remained a constant force.
Fast forward to today, and age has taken its toll. Dad’s once sharp memory has started to fade as dementia gradually clouds his thoughts. Mom bears the weight of caring for him, and I can see it’s hard for her to watch the man she loves slip away day by day.
A few weeks ago, Mom called to tell me she had found a used piano for sale. To my complete surprise, she wanted to buy it to surprise Dad and rekindle their musical memories, but needed help to bring it home. Since I live across the country, I couldn’t be there to help her move it. Sadly, despite her best efforts, Mom had to let go of this opportunity.
But sometimes, fate steps in. Shortly after, I attended a conference a short drive from my parents’ home. While visiting our local office, I learned from a colleague that he and his wife wanted to give away their piano to make room for their upcoming baby. Filled with hope, I arranged for the piano to be delivered to my parents’ house. The task seemed impossible at first, with a 700-pound piano, 50 miles of winding country roads, and a weather forecast threatening rain. But when I told the local piano movers my parents’ story, they agreed to rearrange their schedule to help, refusing to take no for an answer.
On the day of the delivery, I drove to my parents’ house with my colleague. Then, with the help of the piano movers, we carefully manoeuvred the piano into the living room, placing it in the very spot where Mom’s old upright once stood. The shock and wonder on my parents’ faces quickly turned to tears of joy as memories came flooding back.
That weekend was like stepping back in time. Dad sang every lyric from memory, his eyes sparkling with renewed clarity, his voice as strong and pitch-perfect as ever. Mom’s fingers moved gracefully across the keys as if years had fallen away. Once again, the house filled with the melodies that shaped our family.
Though I had to return home, a few weeks later, Mom called, her voice filled with a happiness I hadn’t heard in years. She and Dad had been practising together daily, preparing for a special performance at the local seniors’ centre.
“It feels like we’ve been transported back 50 years,” she said wistfully. “For a few blissful hours each day, your dad and I are young again, lost in our love for music, finding moments of joy together.”
My parents have rediscovered a source of joy that will carry them through the challenges ahead, note by precious note. It’s these glimmers of joy and play that sustain us through life’s struggles. A timeless truth that connects bumblebees and humans in a beautiful way.
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