just out the door

             After finally gathering up enough courage to face the day, I slowly rolled out of bed and opened the shutters to groggily survey the courtyard below.  I peered into the parsley-rosemary-caterpillar world, a small patch of vibrant greens speckled by the yellow of small blossoms.  My blurry eyes tried to focus on some movement, and squinting hard, my vision cleared and I let out a small gasp of surprise.  I propelled myself down the stairs, through the living room and kitchen, and out the door into the courtyard.

            I gasped again, this time in awe, as the black swallowtail paused its fight against the netting to open its wings threateningly as I approached.  My mind finally cleared away the last cobwebs of sleep as this wild, beautiful creature stood its ground.  The butterfly’s wings a satiny black, etched by veins filled with life-giving liquid.  Bright yellow and blue spots curved along the edge of its wings to create a delicate but menacing face to scare off predators.        

   

            It beat its wings again trying to fly up, up, up.  Its antennae and face were through the netting, but its wings were caught on the other side, and it fought to be free.  I had known that the netting, that kept out the birds and discouraged the wasps, would pose an obstacle for the newly emerged butterflies, but I had wanted to give the caterpillars a fighting chance.  But now, watching the swallowtail try to force itself through the narrow netting, I began to weigh the benefits with the risks. I had to act fast before it hurt itself.

            I pulled the netting up from the ground, fumbling to create an opening for the butterfly.  It rested again, watching me, almost laughing at me as I became tangled in the netting; better me than the fragile butterfly.  I held the net above my head; urging it to just fly, fly away.  And it did.  It took flight into the sun, pumping its wings up and down and up and down, teetering in the light breeze, until I couldn’t see it any more.  It was gone so fast, I ran back through the house, out the front door, to see if I could catch another glimpse, or get a hint as to where it was headed.  But it was off, headed to a wonderland of sweet nectar, to start the cycle once again.

            Back in the courtyard, I checked the chrysalises to find which one had hatched, but they were all intact, bright green.  This had been a bonus butterfly, magical, forming from nothing but sunshine, wind, and goodwill.  I searched the rosemary, squinting through the fragrant herb until my eyes rested on the never-before-seen shell of the hollow chrysalis.  I shook my head in disbelief—in wonder—and I smiled to myself, to the butterfly, and to the great camouflage nature provides. 

            I found the baby caterpillar, now a “teenager,” and watched it munch fresh parsley leaves.  Then, I noticed a new baby nearby, black and speckled with yellow, becoming oriented with its large surroundings.  Smiling down, like the mother they would never know, I thought of how lucky I was to witness all of this life, and every good and difficult thing that comes with it—the struggles and successes, birth and death and finally freedom—through my window, just out the door.