My only net is my camera and my desire to understand them a little better. I am fascinated that every fourth generation of Monarchs is like Methuselah, they live longer. Most Monarch butterflies live for about two to six weeks, but every fourth generation, the ones born in the fall, live for several months. They migrate to hibernate in warmer climes through the winter. I marvel at these little wings and how many miles, they fly; 1000 to 2500 miles in some cases... to come back home. Even the butterflies who have never been "home" before know how to get there....it is DNA as a relay race organizer.
Well, you know if you really want to know about butterflies you can google them and read a proper entomological and scientific explanation of what I just garbled out. As I said, words have been escaping me. Here is my self portrait that I drew this morn...a bird in a nest of letters, nary a word in sight.
D N A must be in there somewhere...
I haven't written much of late. I haven't even written to my daughter because I miss her and knowing she is, off and on, a little homesick, out on her adventure...well if I say how much I miss her ...
But this blog is for her, isn't it? Of course.
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Today I am going to a garage sale of a sweet lady who is returning to her home-land. The other day I was helping her with a simple task and suddenly she took a phone call...rapid fire she chattered away in her native tongue. I did not understand a word...except I could hear how deep a resonance the mother tongue has in her heart. She ( my friend's request to keep her departure a bit quiet on the web has me being impersonal here) has lived in the United States for thirteen years. This land gave her shelter from the kidnappings and dangers of her native Columbia. Many of her friends and much of her family have moved away...but not her parents... and now, like a butterfly, she returns. She has reduced the accumulation of the years down to four boxes to ship home; that and a heart full of memories and hopes and an awareness of the truth that her path did not fully open up here. She described the dreams she has and that she returns to her land with her dreams still asking. She says she has created a situation where it is hard to leave but knows she must not stay...
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Did you ever play connect the dots? You follow the numbers and draw the lines between each numbered dot and then maybe the picture will be a bird in a nest sitting on letters that won't quite make the words she wants.... to express her love and hope for those she loves....
The day calls, I look out the window and see what I see? There is a little sailboat on the blue. As my dear runaway- to- the-circus daughter says....onward. I guess if she can write about being homesick, it is okay for me to admit that I miss her proximity here mightily... and this doesn't even get into the much closer but still not quite nearby other "story." This post is for you too.
