Thomas Kurstjens
Beginnings & Endings
The small green caterpillar crawled its way through the undergrowth, eventually finding
itself on the roots of a large old tree with brittle bark. “Hello there, little one. Are you lost?” the
tree asked, but the caterpillar quickly ducked under its roots. Before the tree could ask what
troubled the caterpillar it saw a brown bird flying from above, its beady, hungry dark eyes
analyzing its surroundings with utmost scrutiny.
“Please, you have to help me, I-” the nervous caterpillar pleaded from below, and the tree
wordlessly consented as its new little friend got comfortable. A few minutes later the bird was
gone, and the caterpillar crawled out—but refused to move or go anywhere else.
Night came, and the tree was lending an ear to the caterpillar’s woes, feeling the little thing
curled up by its side.
“…and then that poor worm got eaten up in seconds! Oh, it was awful!” the caterpillar wept.
“Well, you needn’t worry.” The tree soothed. “I’ll protect you as long as I’m able to.”
“Thank you… Oh, thank you so much!” The caterpillar whimpered.
The tree was true to its word, and the caterpillar remained free from the dangers of the
world. Eventually, it ate enough of the tree’s leaves that it became a pupa. Some time passed, and
then the old tree embraced the sun which shone down across the forest, almost demanding the
attention of every being living below. The flowers and other plants sucked up its rays to grow
strong. The deer consumed these plants for food, while the wolves who hunted the deer basked in
its warmth day in and day out. Water vapor evaporated from the surface of the lake to form rain,
which would eventually come down from the skies to further nourish the forest. The tree had
seen this cycle repeat itself over and over across its long life as it survived through many
summers and winters, standing defiantly in the face of an ever-changing landscape.
But there was one area that the light could not and would never be able to touch: a place
beneath the tree’s few remaining leaves. And it was here the tree’s closest friend had made its
home. The pupa existed far away from the outside world, shrouded in the shade. The tree knew
that its little friend was comfortable here, but there was a harsh truth the pupa needed to
understand.
“You know that, eventually, you’ll have to leave,” the aging tree said one day. “My own time in
this world is drawing to a close, but yours has yet to even begin.”
But to the pupa, this proposition was baffling. “Why would I want to leave?” it asked. “Being
here is warm, comforting. Home. I mean, where else could I go that’s safe?” The tree sighed,
both in defeat and understanding. Outside the tree’s embrace were predators like birds or even
other insects that could gobble up the poor pupa in one bite, people who could either swat it or
unknowingly crush it.
But deep down, the tree was sure that some part of the pupa wanted for the day where it would
mature into a proper butterfly. The tree knew that the pupa loved its home, its little corner of the
world. But it was growing up, and the cocoon it hid away in was giving way.
Still more time passed, and the tree’s leaves kept fading, falling off more than ever until
eventually, the day came.
“I’m not leaving!” The pupa begged. “Please, you’re the best friend I’ve known in my whole
life.” But the tree shook its head. The being on its surface wasn’t a pupa any longer and hadn’t
been so for a while. Despite what it always insisted, the tree knew the pupa’s cocoon had become
less of a comforting home and more cramped as time went by. “You must leave… for your own
sake.” The tree gasped. “But you’re going to die!” the pupa said.
“Little one… I knew that this day was coming for years, and I have accepted it,” the old
tree replied. “The fear of death, of failure is natural… but we cannot let it define us when it could
come at any moment. So, every day, you must live to the fullest. Be the best version of yourself
you can be. Go, little one. Spread your wings and live to your fullest.” The tree’s voice was
strained and tired, as if the energy it gave off talking was shortening its own lifespan.
The butterfly remained where it was, clinging onto the tree’s aging, flakey bark as tight as
it could. This was its home, what it knew best and where all its best memories were. It couldn’t
just leave everything behind!
The butterfly subconsciously stretched its wings, feeling the nice breeze the outside world
provided. From where it was perched, it could vaguely see everything from the shadow of the
leaves. The beautiful flowers, open fields of green where so many other butterflies were. Could
the butterfly possibly find a mate down there? There were so many new things it yearned to see
up close. But that would mean giving up its security, its little hovel where it could be safe.
The butterfly pondered its options for the longest time before it eventually took off, its beautiful
blue wings faltering but holding steady against the breeze. And as it turned back around, the
butterfly looked at the tree one final time. Even in their last moments looking eye to eye, the tree
was able to give its little friend a final smile… before its last few leaves dropped to the ground.
The butterfly looked tearfully at its departed friend. It would never be the same, never provide
the butterfly with the comfort it used to. In time the tree would be chopped down by the humans,
remade into something unrecognizable, but the butterfly realized that this was the cycle of life.
Every living being had a purpose in nature, and now it was the butterfly’s turn to find its own.
And so, the butterfly turned to the meadows—ready to begin the newest chapter in its life as it
embraced the sun’s warmth.