Two

There were four caterpillars in my lemon tree. They feasted on its leaves. I was thrilled to have discovered them yet disgusted by their defensive stench. Nevertheless, I welcomed them and allowed them to chomp away at the already sparse tree.

On the night of their discovery, I read The Very Hungry Caterpillar to our son at bedtime. I was full of anticipation and hope. Might we witness our four hungry caterpillars’ transformation as well? I felt blessed they were in our tree. 

A few days later they were gone…

…

Look what the cat dragged in! It was a butterfly. April, our cat, caught a butterfly in her mouth. Its wings were oddly bent and crumpled. I put it in a cloth napkin and carried it to the lemon tree. There I left it, most likely to face the same demise as the caterpillars.  

…

I started reading The Gift by Lewis Hyde and I learned a new word – lepidopterology. 

The dictionary says, lepidopterology is “the branch of zoology dealing with butterflies and moths.” 

Immediately, I thought of the caterpillars.  

The day they disappeared I looked around for clues to tell their story. There was a long yellow streak down the patio wall. And there was black ink like spots on leaves of a nearby plant. I can only assume it was a massacre. Most likely a very hungry bird ate the very hungry caterpillars. 

I realized in my pining for butterflies, I completely missed what it meant to be a caterpillar in a tree. 

…

A post from the author Kate DiCamillo popped up on my Facebook feed. She mentioned working on a novel and shared a picture of a Monarch butterfly perched on a purple flower. She wrote about how the fragile butterfly gave her hope.

I remember the butterfly the cat dragged in and its damaged wings. It was fragile indeed. 

…

The lemon tree was trimmed. The tree looks thinner now. There are not many leaves left. It is vacant, without visitors or lemons. But I have faith the tree will grow even more abundantly than before. There is still hope.