Pesky Pests

Dear Oak Mites,

Wow. I’m impressed. I didn’t know you existed last year but somehow everyone knows who you are this year. You rose to fame quicker than Ken Bone after last week’s presidential debate. In fact, I can barely push up my sweatshirt sleeve before you remind me you’re here.

I am literally covered in your bites of affection. Two on my left shoulder, one in the crook of my right elbow, another on my lower back – need I continue? I have to be honest though, it’s a bit extreme. I think our relationship is moving too quick.

Even my friends have you in their life. I feel more betrayed than Taylor after Kim ‘sposed her. I thought I was special; after all, I run cross country every day after school. That means I would lounge in the grass right under your beloved tree, listening to Coach Trish talk about our last meet. That was so much time with you. But somehow, even my recluse friends who never venture outside are experiencing your affection. Tell me how that’s fair. Tell me.

But despite this, I suppose I’m lucky. I’ll be at college next year, and oak mites only really affect the KC area. So this could be our last year together – can you believe it? Not to mention our already limited time is rapidly dwindling. Mites can only survive until the first frost, and I heard that’s in the later part of October. Three weeks! I don’t know what I’m going to do outside if I’m not being bitten every five seconds. Leisurely hammock with actual skin showing? Homework outside of Starbucks instead of being forced inside? Sit in grass? I already miss you guys.

But I should look at it on the bright side, shouldn’t I? I heard last year was the best visit from you oak mites in over 10 years. And this year was even better. At least you went out with a bang, because like I said before, I had no clue you were a thing before this year. Yet looking around now, when everyone knows who you are, I can’t help but admire you. Even though I think you made too many friends, it’s the thought that counts.

So come November, when my arms are smooth and clean, and my neck no longer needs concealer to cover red swollen bumps, I will probably be upset. I will probably be consoling myself with hot apple cider and pumpkin bread and cranberry sauce. But don’t feel too bad for me – my pain tends to move on pretty quickly.

Love,

Caroline