17 July 2006
fly fly away
we'd been facing the drama head on for a couple of days and decided we might like to wallow in denial instead. just for a day or two. so we decided to pretend that we did not have numerous houses to look at and a monstrous attic to clean out. for one day, I feigned sunny-faced optimism and ignored the frantic feelings that are beginning to run rampant right beneath the surface.
we did what any self-respecting family facing mild adversity would do in our shoes: we went to the butterfly festival. doesn't that make sense? isn't that what everyone does when the shizz hits it? naturally. saturday afternoon had us pretending that it was not as hot as it was, that you didn't need a butter knife to cut your way through the humidity, that we weren't feeling all melted and sweaty. instead, we watched as they released hundreds of monarch butterflies from a wooden cage. they fluttered around us in the thick air like little pieces of papery magic. one landed on my shoulder and I felt like the Chosen One. I could feel her slightness on the bare skin of my shoulder and marveled at her brilliant colors and patterns. unfortunately, she flew away before I could properly introduce myself. we spread our cotton blanket out and attempted to eat a picnic lunch but kept wandering off in different directions to follow the monarchs. we watched as they landed on flowers, got as close to them as they would allow. we gently touched the tips of their delicate wings and were genuinely surprised when they didn't seem to mind. and of course, there were crafts. we made butterflies out of marshmallows and paper and paint, we made butterfly bookmarks. somehow, the volunteers were able to paint on the sweaty faces of so many children. ava couldn't stop looking at her decorated butterfly self in the small hand mirror and ezra kept touching the caterpillar on his cheek. we were headed for the popsicle guy but heard thunder off in the distance. we watched one last time as they released more butterflies (ezra on my shoulders and ava on ward's) and then ran happily towards the car. we were a mess of hot and stickiness but it had been worth it-- the wallowing had been good.
later that night, we had dinner with friends (thank you, james and mandy). chicken and vegetables grilled to perfection and fantastic conversation. and the pineapple-- so sweet and juicy that I wanted to lay down right there on the floor and cry like a happy little baby. yes, wallowing had been just the thing.
butterflies, face paint and one sweaty family: lookie here.