CATERPILLARS AND BUTTERFLIES

There was one stretch of highway we drove through, getting to Mesa, that was thick with insects. Big insects. We couldn't tell what they were, but they were big enough to be seen as we drove through the cloud of winged things, and the spatters they left on the windshield were as large in diameter as small apricots, and the color of bright mustard.





"What on earth are they?" we both wondered aloud, and with no small measure of disgust.

We stopped for gas a while later, and Bob decided he'd better clean off the windshield. As he did that, he noticed something stuck in the front grill of the RV. Bending, he retrieved a small, brightly colored carcas, wings tattered, but still beautiful.

Imagine our dismay:




Later, I wondered if we'd have felt the same remorse if we'd driven over that many caterpillars. I think we wouldn't have, which is both sad and strange.

"There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it will be a butterfly."

I think we need to remember that when we deal with people, especially children, but with adults, too.