Chrysalis

by

Ginger Hanson
©1993

The problem with dying young was its unexpectedness. They had been so busy living that neither she nor Dan had given much thought to dying. Oh, they had gone through the formalities of insurance and beneficiaries, but they hadn't talked about death, their deaths.
No, they'd talked about their future. Dan had talked endlessly about his career goals. Sometimes, she had mentioned returning to school.
And now Dan was gone. Killed in a helicopter accident. Not an unexpected possibility since he was an Army pilot, but not a possibility she had ever allowed to dwell long in her mind. She'd been so happy when his assignment had kept him out of Iraq that she'd forgotten that death walks through life in all guises and war isn't its only one.
It was the small decisions that finally overwhelmed her. Taken together, they far outweighed the large ones and she found refuge in the tranquilizing effects of television where the mindless barrage of electronic information numbed her senses. Lost in a world of old movies and reruns, where no one ever died, she pretended that Dan would be home for dinner as usual. The charade never lasted past three when Felicia, their ten-year-old daughter, opened the door to shattering reality.
Today was no exception. Felicia burst into Melinda's media world with the breath of young life, hugging her mom before disappearing into her bedroom. Melinda's fingers strayed to tighten the belt of her worn bathrobe. Another day had slipped past and she wasn't dressed. Wearily, she rose and clicked off the television before going into the kitchen.
Felicia's books and lunch box were jumbled on the table. Melinda dug out the lunch box and flipped open the lid.
"Ugh!" She wanted to drop the lunch box, but a sixth sense stopped her and she gingerly placed Felicia's prize on the counter. Inside the plastic box, over the remains of lunch, looped a fat caterpillar. A used sandwich bag held a handful of leaves, but the corpulent insect couldn't penetrate the plastic and crawled aimlessly over the bag seeking entry.
"What an ugly bug." The black body was studded with long, hairy spikes and random splotches of mustard gold. It bore little resemblance to the fuzzy, adorable caterpillars in books.
"You found Hairy!"
Melinda smiled at her daughter. "What an appropriate name."
"May I keep him? He won't be any trouble and I'll feed him everyday. I promise." In a breathless rush, Felicia added what she obviously considered the crowning argument, "I can learn about cocoons."
"I think there's a large jar in the cabinet, but we'll have to punch holes in the lid so he can breath. Go outside and get me a hammer and big nail, they're on your father's workbench." Melinda opened the cabinet to look for a jar, trying to ignore the stab of grief that seared her heart at the realization that Dan wouldn't use any of the tools again.
Together they made Hairy a new home. Felicia filled the jar with leaves, adding a sampling from their own backyard.
"I hope Hairy likes our leaves, best."
He didn't. By the next morning he had devoured the leaves from the school yard and by-passed the leaves from their yard.
"This species of caterpillar must eat only one particular leaf, Felicia. I'll put an extra sandwich bag in your lunch box, you'll have to get him more leaves or he'll die." Melinda heard her voice falter slightly on the last word. "Hurry up, or you'll miss the bus."
After Felicia left, Melinda poured herself another cup of coffee. Hairy's jar rested on the kitchen table where Felicia had left him in her rush to catch the bus. Melinda joined the insect at the table.
"Ready for a morning coffee klatch, Hairy?" She sipped her coffee and marveled at the insect's voracious appetite. He had consumed all the school yard leaves until only minute particles of debris coated the floor of the jar. Patiently, he glided amid the foliage, searching for his favorite tidbits and ignoring the other greenery. Rooting in the debris on the jar's bottom, he located one broken leaflet which had escaped his attention. Seizing his treasure, he half-stood in his eagerness to ingest it.
"Better slow down, Hairy, that's your last meal until three." With fascination, she watched her warning go unheeded: Hairy existed only to eat.
"Is Hairy all right?" asked Felicia when she burst into the house that afternoon.
"Starving, but alive."
"I got three more caterpillars to keep Hairy company, but Miss Avery wanted them for her kindergarten class. I gave 'em to her." Felicia was dumping open her lunch box while she spoke, spilling leaves onto the kitchen table. She stuffed a few into the jar. Hairy met this feast with his usual gluttony.
"I got extras 'cause it's Friday. If he runs out, can you drive me to the school?"
Melinda didn't like leaving the house because it meant getting dressed, and smiling at people when she didn't feel like smiling at anyone, but she couldn't refuse her daughter. "If you run out of leaves, I'll drive you to the school to get more."
Felicia didn't run out of leaves because she fed Hairy small quantities each day. She also spent her weekend collecting every variety of leaf that grew in their subdivision, but not one enticed Hairy from his playground fare.
Monday morning found Melinda rinsing the breakfast dishes. She paused to inspect the finicky gourmet. Fat and black, the caterpillar undulated aimlessly across the side of his jar which was rapidly filling with digested leaf offal.
"A new jar and fresh leaves for you this afternoon, Hairy."
During the day, she found herself leaving the flickering images on the television screen to check Hairy. He was always eating.
Everyday that week Felicia arrived home eager for a progress report on her caterpillar. Hairy made her feel welcome, he had always eaten the previous day's supply of leaves and immediately pounced on the new ones. Soon, thought Melinda, soon he has to stop this incessant eating and make a cocoon.
She was right. They woke up one morning to discover Hairy had disappeared into a dark brown cocoon. His new structure was as ugly as he had been and Hairy's old head dangled upside down from the lid of the jar.
"I'm glad he's finished eating," said Felicia as she inspected his home. "I'm tired of using recess to get him leaves." She was holding the jar up to the kitchen light. "How long will it take him to become a beautiful butterfly?"
"I have no idea. He may just be an ordinary brown moth."
"Moth! You mean I've been feeding an ugly ole moth? I want a butterfly!"
"I don't want you to be disappointed, Felicia. I haven't the faintest idea what Hairy will look like."
"Daddy would've known. He knew everything."
Felicia's outburst twisted through the air between them, the desolate sound of her lifetime loss knifing into Melinda's soul. Husband. Father. They had both lost so much. Suddenly, Melinda was on her knees, gathering Felicia into her arms, something she had forgotten to do these past few weeks.
"You're right, Lish," she murmured Dan's pet name into the blonde hair he had bequeathed their child. "I always said your father was a walking encyclopedia. He probably would have known if Hairy was a butterfly."
"Mom, you're smushing Hairy."
Melinda released her daughter after planting a kiss on her soft cheek. "You'd better hurry. . ."
"Or I'll miss the bus."
Unexpectedly, Melinda giggled. "Little parrot."
Felicia grinned at her mother. "Take care of Hairy while I'm at school."
With Hairy's jar in her hands, Melinda watched through the living room window as Felicia skipped to the bus stop. Perhaps, thought Melinda, the library would have a book about butterflies. Maybe Felicia would find a picture of a caterpillar that resembled Hairy. A caterpillar that changed into a beautiful butterfly, because Hairy was going to emerge a butterfly.
She arrived home only minutes before Felicia, who saw the oversized, brightly illustrated butterfly book immediately. "Wow, is Hairy in there?"
"Why don't you check while I fix some cookies and milk?"
Amid a flurry of "listen to this" and "look, this one's beautiful," Melinda poured two glasses of milk and dumped some oatmeal cookies on a plate. The afternoon sun was beaming through the kitchen window, warming the room with its light. It was a cozy kitchen, part of the home she and Dan had chosen two years earlier.
"I've decided to return to school." The words startled Melinda almost as much as they did Felicia.
"School?"
Melinda wondered how long the idea had been fermenting in the back of her brain, weighed down by grief. Not that it hadn't been there before Dan died, but there had never been any urgency to follow that particular dream. She had thought she had all the time in the world. Now, she knew she didn't. "Yes," she said firmly, "I'm going to college."
"That's neat. I don't think Hairy's in here, Mom."
So much for cataclysmic change, thought Melinda wryly, as she joined her daughter at the kitchen table.
Over a week later, Melinda stood before the floor length mirror in her bedroom and critically inspected her reflection. She thought the blue plaid skirt and navy blouse gave her a neat, businesslike look. Not that she had the slightest idea what one wore to an interview with a college counselor.
"Mom! Mom! come quickly!" Felicia's tone held an hushed awe that brought Melinda quickly. She found her daughter in the kitchen with the lid to Hairy's jar in one hand. Felicia had gently lowered her finger into the jar and was withdrawing a gorgeous butterfly who walked on spindly legs with dainty grace along her curved finger. Delicate, lacy black wings splashed with vibrant orange fanned the air rhythmically. Like the fairy tale duckling, ugly Hairy had grown into a beautiful creature.
"Is he ready to fly?"
"I think so," said Melinda softly, "I think so."
Slowly, they walked through the hall to the front door which Melinda held open for Felicia. The child maneuvered cautiously past the door, taking care not to startle the insect.
A warm Southern fall sun greeted the trio. Poised on the edge of Felicia's finger, Hairy expanded his wings as if to absorb the sunshine. Twin antennae quivered with eagerness and the pumping tempo of his wings increased. With a sudden flutter, he left Felicia's hand. Like a wayward leaf caught by the wind, he repeatedly rose and fell in this initial flight of liberty, until his colorful form finally gained the rooftop.
Lighting on the gutter, Hairy paused in vulnerable freedom. His wings continued their ceaseless pumping motion while the butterfly seemed to contemplate his new status in life. Removed from the security of the ground, he trembled on the brink of an unexplored world. With renewed vigor, he extended his velvety wings and soared into the air. This time his graceful, dancing flight took him over the roof and out of their view.
"Daddy loved to fly, just like Hairy."
Melinda draped her arm around Felicia's shoulder. "Yes, honey, Daddy loved to fly."

The End