When becoming looks like betrayal

We romanticize the metamorphosis of the caterpillar and the butterfly with reverence and awe—

but God forbid it were to happen to us or one of our loved ones.

The caterpillar had an entire family.

He lived there for years.

He had his favorite spot on the oak tree,

and would play until the wee hours of the night with his friends.

Growing up, his loving parents doted on him and showered him with love—

not knowing that one day, this tree would no longer be his stomping grounds.

Friends knew him as gentle, funny, sincere, and happy.

He always had a good word for each one of his bug friends.

They'd gather around and listen to his tales.

Oh, how they loved him.

One day, he didn’t show up to the club.

Concerned, a couple of bugs went to check on him.

He mumbled some half-assed excuse about being tired or not feeling up to it.

And so they left.

But this kept happening, day after day.

And something weird was happening, too—

he’d gotten this strange shell on him,

almost covering his entire being.

He stopped answering the door.

They tried to get him to laugh,

but there was nobody home.

Once, they even tried getting into the shell he created—

and to their horror, all they saw was liquid.

They never stepped foot in again.

Slowly, over time, his community forgot about him.

They’d see a little movement here and there,

but he never came out.

Until one day,

they heard a menacing crack—

and what seemed like a strong wind coming from his tree.

They rushed over to watch, in utter disbelief—and even anger—

as their old friend no longer resembled one of them.

He had strange things on both sides.

They’d never seen that before.

And they were flapping wildly,

making so much noise.

They tried to get him to stop,

but he wouldn’t.

And suddenly—he broke free.

And started flying.

They couldn’t believe their eyes.

Their disbelief quickly turned to rage

as he hovered over them

and finally flew away.

The funeral was quick and nondescript.

They didn’t want to make a full commotion—

lest others try the same thing.

Oh, how they hated him.

And so they quietly mourned

and quietly seethed

as they contemplated the loss of yet another one of their loved ones.

And in another town far far away,

a celebration had just begun.

They welcomed the newest member of the butterfly tribe.

A big, beautiful butterfly had just arrived

from the distant land of Caterpillarville.

They danced and drank l’chaim

and wished him much success

on the journey of butterflyhood.

Such is life.

Rarely understood.

Rarely fair.

Rarely easy.

And yet, somehow, butterflies must be created.

And caterpillars must disappoint.

There is nothing that’s static and free of pain—

even those stuck

and willing to do whatever it takes

to hold on to rigidity.

– איש