Awake

Outside again, at dusk, working with a friend, in the heat and muggy air, I could feel the mosquitoes reliably surrounding my body and landing here and there, looking for sustenance.  Accepting their presence and the essence of what they do when they meet someone like me, I breathed and gently pushed them away.  Several on my neck, in the front and in the back, some drilling through my pants and shirt, several around my ankles and around my face.  There they were.

Swatting them would have been pointless.  Others would have quickly replaced them.

My friend walked away for a moment and returned with some anti-mosquito spray.  He thoughtfully sprayed me first, then himself.  After that, it was just the termites flapping around and giving up their wings.

In the back of my mind I did think, 'tomorrow I will be covered with mosquito bites,' but I didn't worry about it.  The next day, I found only two: one mathematically placed right between my collarbones, and one on the second joint of the second toe on my left foot.  And they didn't itch.

What happened?  I know those dozens of mosquitoes were piercing me; I could feel it.  But only two bites showed themselves.

I wonder: if I had been running around trying to avoid the mosquitoes, or if I had been swatting them and getting frustrated with them, self-righteously killing them, would I have had more bites?  

I think breathing saved my skin.