Metamorphosis
We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty. - Maya Angelou
When my babies were little – 30 years ago – we lived in Lander, Wyoming – a tiny town of 6,000 nestled away in the wilds of the Wind River Mountains in Wyoming. It was a pretty, little, rural place. So tiny, in fact, that any thing that happened out of the ordinary, became extraordinary.
The babies (2 of them) and I stayed home during the days. We played, washed clothes, did dishes, baked, gardened, canned foods, and spent a lot of time at the park. There was a sweet little park in the middle of Lander where we would spend a great deal of time – especially on the swing set with my son, and the baby sleeping in the stroller. Pretty soon, my boy would also be asleep, lulled to sleep by the motion of the swings.
On one of these long, summer days, we were heading back home when we came upon this huge, juicy caterpillar on the sidewalk, inching his way to the grass. I mean, he would have been an entire meal if we had been so inclined. A big, bright green, stay-puffed marshmallow man of a caterpillar.
Upon advice from a friend, I got a jar, and put in a stick and leaves from the neighboring tree, and poked holes in the lid, and plopped our big caterpillar friend into his new glass condo. We lived in a geodesic dome house at that point, and I put our new friend right in the middle of the table to watch. After a while – he climbed up onto the stick and then – turned into a mummified, dry, brown lump. I figured it was a chrysalis, but had never seen one, and had no idea how long to wait. But wait we did.
Months or years later, okay – in my mind it was months, though Google informs me it was only a few weeks, I had tired of the brown lump and put it on the balcony which split our geodesic home in half (top to bottom). I fell back into the never-ending chores of motherhood, and forgot about it. Then one morning, I woke up and heard rustling in the upstairs room. I checked to make sure the babies were where they needed to be, that the dog was secure…all was in order. Then I went into the room to see what mouse or critter had escaped and was wreaking havoc.
I saw a flash of color on the balcony, crossed to pick up the jar, and was positively gobsmacked to see a gigantic yellow swallow tailed butterfly had appeared. To say it was miraculous, well, that doesn’t come close to how it was. It was breathtaking, amazing and awe-inspiring moment. The kids looked at the butterfly – thought about eating it (kids think about eating everything), and we released it outside.
It was just one on a long list of miracles one encounters when one is raising children. Speaking of children, our little darling gave us all his late-summer cold, the poor boy. He is sniffling and snuffling, not sure why he feels icky, but sure that he does. It was so good for my heart when I sat in the big chair and Arthur toddled over with a book, held out his arms and wanted to sit in my lap for a lullaby and a nap.
This has been the summer of road trips, bubbles and fun. Of giggles, watching Arthur become even more inquisitive and curious about everything around him. He’s learned how to crawl out of his crib, and ate tacos the other day at my house. He’s developed a love for water and splash pads, We’ve watched boats and planes and helicopters and jet skis. Such a lovely time of change.
