Butterfly, can you turn back into a caterpillar?

There were a million reason Uncle Isaiah hadn’t visited the U of M campus to see his nephew, our son.

An overwhelming and over scheduled life of doctor appts, working out, case workers, didn’t leave a lot of room for road trips.

We piled in the car, making the adjustments needed. My youngest kid parting with a beloved meat stick, Chomps, the only one in the snack bag, for Uncle Isaiah to enjoy.

As we drove down the highway he noticed a butterfly clinging to our car.

“Oh, hi, butterfly, he said! I hope you turn back into a caterpillar, hold on!”

We drove, singing John Denver’s Country Road. We hit a detour, and peeled down a dirt road, kicking up dust like a scene from an episode of Dukes of Hazard.

Flowers were everywhere. Sunflowers in particular.

He noticed the butterfly again.

“Uh, oh.”

The wind was to harsh as it was holding on for dear life at the 70 ish miles an hour I was driving at.
“It doesn’t have wings anymore. I think it’s turning back into a caterpillar now.”

We noticed the blue sky had clouds in it now.

As we got closer to U of M, he said to me, “I was here a long time ago when I was little. They tried to fix me, my legs, tried to find a diagnosis.”

It was time for a new memory of this place.

We pulled up to the dorm, and right across was The Cube.

He was drawn to it.

The Cube  sculpture spins and is known to bring good luck if you spin it.

All of us took a turn spinning it together.

He smiled a new smile I hadn’t seen before, seeing his nephew, big man on campus now. We drove through the strip at night, big flashing lights “Michigan”.

He said it felt like Vegas.

As we pulled back to the dorm, the sun was setting.

He looked at me and said, “go spin it.”

What?

“Go spin it, Rachel. The cube. I want to see it spin again.”

I ran as fast as I could and spun it with all my might. As I approached the car, I heard him laughing.

Isaiah’s laugh is like a sunrise and sunset at the same time, one of the most beautiful sounds to my ears.

Yes. That’s it. That’s it, he said.

Then, he moved his ball cap to the side and said, “put on my favorite song, Cross Movements, Father forgive them.”

We turned it up as we drove away back home.

Is it possible for a butterfly to turn back into a caterpillar?

Is it possible to go back to our squishy bodies, before we evolved toward something most people value more than our growing state? Can we still remember what it feels like being softer?

What are we clinging to at seventy miles an hour while our wings are being ripped off?

Are we capable of going softer now, friend? Can we mentally go back to formation, like a little growing caterpillar again? It’s time to embrace what was, is, and embrace what becomes. All of it, every inch can be valued.

Spin it.

As the evolutionary turn takes place even now.

My frame was not hidden from you, when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body; before one of them came to be.