I love butterflies. I have loved them since my mom told me the story of her best friend, whose mother passed away last year. While she was dying, she told her daughter, that she would know that she made it to heaven, because there would be butterflies. At the time, it was winter in Minnesota. Hardly the place where one would see butterflies. There was a birthday party for her granddaughter at a local gymnastics studio a few days following her mother’s death, and the entire studio was painted with butterflies. After this story, I notice butterflies more and more. Florida’s state insect is the Painted Lady Butterfly.
I love butterflies for another reason that is not explicitly stated in the above story. If you know me intimately, you know that I hate worms. Butterflies start out as worms. Worms make my skin crawl. The only thing that redeems butterfly worms (aka caterpillars) is that they have eyes, and you can see the eyes. Other than that they are gross. Butterflies start out gross worms, and after a certain amount of time, they become butterflies. It is truly a miracle of science. I think people have that capacity too.
I know that I am not stagnant. I learn, I change, and I am fluid. I like to think that when I was younger, I was a worm– I was slow, sometimes fat (like a caterpillar), I had a limited view. I’m not quite all the way there yet, but getting closer. It’s sometimes easier to remain the same, and it’s difficult to realize your shortcomings. It’s easier to claim perfection, and not admit the imperfections.