Stella sat quietly knitting in her garden early one autumn morning. The air was deliciously crisp and clear; she sat contentedly enjoying the sounds the world was making as all things great and small came to life on a brand new day. Taking a break now and then, she drew long sips of hot black coffee, savoring the rich bitter taste. With each sip her eyes closed halfway, her head tilted back, and she let out a personal little sigh thinking how perfect was her day … so far.

Her needles slid effortlessly against each other as stitch after stitch made a smooth transition from one needle to the next, growing ever gradually into a wispy lacy creation she could hardly wait to wear.

After thirty minutes or so of contemplative perfection she caught something sweep up toward her out of the corner of her eye. Glancing over she saw the translucent white flowing wings of an unusually large insect come to rest on the lip of a vintage watering can positioned aesthetically next to a large container of soft pink geraniums.

Pretty, she thought to herself, continuing on with her knitting. A moment later she heard the tiniest little throat clearing sound coming from the perching winged creature.

“Ahheemmm,” came the sound. “Do you notice anything special about me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” was Stella’s nonchalant reply.

Looking somewhat insulted, the creature said, “I am a fairy!” ending with a little sarcastic expression of triumph mixed with disdain.

Stella stopped knitting for a moment and leaned forward, squinting for a better look.

“Dubious,” she thought to herself. Out loud she said, “Ya look like a bug,” and returned to her knitting.

A look of shocked horror flashed across the creature’s face, “Are you nuts?” it demanded in a tiny yet fierce little voice. “What, are you telling me … I look like a bug to you? Do you have any idea how insulting that is?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Stella said patiently.

“Well, I am not a bug. I am a fairy.”

“Nnnno, you’re not. You’re a bug.”

“No I am NOT!” The little creature balled up its tiny little fists and stamped as hard as it could on the rim of the watering can in protest.

“I beg to differ, although you are quite pretty. But, you’re bug pretty, not fairy pretty.”

“You are unbelievable, lady! I can not believe the insults I am suffering here. Take a look at this,” and with that the creature unfurled its wings and lifted slightly up into the air, twirled around once and landed gracefully again on the lip of the watering can.

Looking quite proud and defiant, the creature said, “Okay … now do you get it?”

“Very impressive, well done. That little flourish at the end of your twirl was the best. But, ya still look like a bug.”

“Errrrrrrrrr!” The little creature almost seemed to glow red in a spot or two as it tried its best to express very big annoyed feelings with a teeny, tiny little voice. “Do you have any idea what’s going on here? This is supposed to be a truly magical moment in your life, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience something extraordinarily spiritual. And what do you do? You insult me, a real-life pixie, by calling me a bug! Where’s your imagination? Where’s your heart?”

“Look, I’m really sorry little bug,” (the creature cringed in the background), “but I just don’t see it,” Stella said lightly.

“But don’t you see my magical wings? And how about my frilly little fairy dress and you’ve got to see the fairy dust; it’s getting all over everything out here.”

Stella’s shoulder’s slumped as she noticed she had missed a count in her stitches and knew she’d have to tink back a few paces.

Letting out an almost patient sigh, she tinked back then said, “You do have beautiful wings. But, a ‘flowing dress’, really … I think one of us might be hallucinating a little bit here.”

“Well, it’s not me. And you are absolutely infuriating, just so you know. I have never come across any other human with the complete and utter disregard for a fairy you exhibit. I just might put a magic ban on your garden; I can do that, you know.”

Stella considered that for a moment as she looked around at her pretty garden, glistening still with morning dew. “Okay, well I’m getting back to my knitting now.”

“Fine, whatever. I’m leaving. I’m a magical little fairy, I’ve given you a chance to see me in all my pixie glory and you have not shown the least bit of appreciation for it. So, I’m out o’ here, lady!” With that the creature turned its back on Stella and made a little lifting motion as if it were going to take off and fly away.

Stella calmly continued knitting, then reached for her coffee cup for another drawn out sip. Frowning, she looked inside and saw the cup was nearly drained. “Darn.”

The creature almost took off, but then turned back at the last moment and said. “Look, I’m going to give you one more chance. This is just too weird; I can’t leave this way. Now come on, take a good look at me one more time …”

Stella frowned again about the coffee and was thinking about how yummy the hot stuff still in the pot inside was.

The little creature didn’t know about how good early morning coffee can be, so did not particularly notice its lack of an audience and continued its plea. “So, I’m going to unfurl my pretty little wings and fly around a bit so you can get a good look at the whole package I’ve got going on here …”

“Uh, could you excuse me a sec … I need to go grab some more some coffee.”

“I cannot believe the sheer impudence of your very bad behavior,” the creature scolded with sagging wings and furrowed brows on its tiny little face.

Stella turned and looked back at the creature as she headed for the patio door and said, “Do you want me to get you a … drop of something?”

“Sure, what do you have?” the creature asked in a dejected yet sarcastic voice.

“Coffee, juice, water …”

“Juice is fine.”

“Okay, well hold your thought there, I’ll be right back.”

She returned shortly with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a saucer with one drop of orange juice in the other. Placing the saucer down by the watering can, she picked her knitting up and sat back down in her own chair, taking a long hard sip with slightly closed eyes just as her bottom hit the chair. “Heaven,” she thought to herself as she tasted the lovely coffee in her mouth. She savored the warmth, the smell, the taste.

Lick, lick, lick … the creature sampled the orange juice.

“So, you were saying,” Stella nudged the creature to continue.

“This is supposed to be a defining moment in your life and you’re all, ‘you’re a bug’. I don’t get it. Maybe you need new glasses or something, because I am definitely a fairy.”

Stella had a sudden thought and reached into her knitting bag, drawing out a ruler and holding it out toward the creature with her head tilted sideways in curiosity.

“What’s that … what are you doing?” the creature said, drawing slightly away.

“Well, I thought I’d measure you to see how long you are. Then I can look you up online and see what kind of bug you are.”

“Okay, first of all … I am not a bug. Secondly, I’m not long, you aren’t gonna measure me and see how ‘long’ I am … I’m tall. If you want to measure me, it would be to see how tall I am. I stand erect; I’m tall for Pete’s sake, and I’m not getting measured. Get that thing away from me.”

Stella put away the ruler, looking somewhat disappointed. Picking up her knitting she went back to working on the lacy design. The creature took a few more licks of orange juice thoughtfully.

“I know,” Stella said brightly, “I’ll get my friend Betty to come over for a look. She can give us both a second opinion.” And she reached for her cell phone, ready to make the call.

“Just hold on one single minute here. What am I now, some kind of freak? I don’t want your friends coming over and looking at me. What is wrong with you!”

Stella shrugged her shoulders and put the cell phone down on the table by her coffee cup. “Umm … coffee,” she smiled a little and picked up the cup for another loving sip.

“Okay, well … I want to give it one more shot and then I’m giving up. Here are my wings, and here is my dress, and see my legs and arms, and my long curly hair? And remember, this is your one last chance to experience magic. Don’t blow it.”

Stella looked longingly at her knitting, wanting more than anything just to continue on with the lace design. She had just gotten into the really interesting part of the pattern and had been having quite a lot of fun with it until the little creature came along. Again, she had lost count and needed to reorient herself, “One, two, three, four … hold on bug, I’m counting stitches … five, six, seven. Darn I should have used stitch markers. I didn’t realize I’d be here talking to a bug this morning. Eight, nine …”

“I am not a bug. All I’m asking is for you to take one more look at me and see if you can’t find the fairy in me. That’s all I’m asking. If you really can’t see it, I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

Stella leaned forward and took off her glasses. Squinting a bit, she did take another long hard look. Wrinkling her nose, she made an apologetic expression and said, “Ya still look like a bug. The talking thing is very cool, that’s different. You’re a really cool talking bug, but not a fairy. Sorry.”

“Oh my gosh! I still can not believe this. This has never happened before.” The creature started fretting and pacing back and forth; Stella went back to her knitting.

“I can’t do this any more, I’ve lost all of my inspiration,” the creature said sadly. It lifted up sluggishly to the top of the watering can, looking down at the ground. “I guess I’ll be leaving now. It’s been quite an experience.”

Turning to leave, with wings drooping down pathetically, it shook its tiny little head in bewilderment. Just as it was about to make a lethargic take off Stella said kindly, “I really didn’t mean to upset you or hurt your feelings. I’m sorry. You know, you could stick around for a while. I’ve got more juice inside and maybe we could just sort of hang out for a while until you’re feeling better.”

Looking back toward her the creature said, “You mean it?”

“Sure, come on back and have a few more licks of your O.J.”

“Well, it is pretty good juice,” and with that the creature returned to the saucer, sat down on the edge and leaned forward to have another lick.

“So, what’s that you’re working on anyway?” the creature asked Stella.

“This? Oh, this is going to be a lovely lace shawl,” Stella beamed, holding her knitting up for the creature to admire.

“Hmmph! Yeah, right. That is not lace,” the creature said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

“What do you mean?” Stella asked, astonished. “Of course, it’s lace. You need to take a better look.”

The creature leaned forward; squinting slightly to get a better look, then shook its head and chuckled. “Say what you want lady, but that is not lace. Fairies make lace; I know lace. And that … that is not lace.”

“Yes it most certainly is lace,” Stella staunchly defended her creation, feeling thoroughly exasperated.

“Nnnno, it’s not.”

Stella took in a breath, ready to continue the argument but paused. Reconsidering, she merely frowned slightly before returning to her knitting with but one retort:

“Freak.”

“Human.”

“Bug.”

“Whatever.”