Like caterpillars and dragonflies: A yearning to be free
I was just hanging out, drinking a cup of coffee on a beautiful morning, and the most gorgeous dragonfly flew onto my porch. She (I’m quite sure) lit on the screen and spread out her wings — stunning. After sunning herself for a bit, she seemed to get a bit frustrated when she realized she couldn’t get out of our house. I can totally relate.
I extended a dust mop and she crawled on to it and I guided it slowly to the open door. She gracefully flew away. Ah, to be a dragonfly.
Perhaps not my craziest thought — at least maybe a pursuit of a new sense of freedom within our social distance boundaries.
Dancing on the front porch in my PJs with my grandchildren was my first freeing activity. Although they were six feet (at least) away, it felt wonderful, but surely my neighbors wished they lived on another street.
Next in my quest to free myself, I planned to fill all of the salt and pepper shakers in my collection — a project that has been weighing heavily on my mind, because, why wouldn’t it?
As I was trying to decide how to wash and dry each little container individually, my husband suggested that we buy a “Roomba,” that robot vacuum cleaner that prowls around your house while you sleep, even though we already have that home system with the big, slinky, snake looking thing that plugs into your wall, as well as a Dyson cordless vacuum. Our dog doesn’t shed and we are pretty neat, but after interviewing everyone we know who has a Roomba, he ordered it on Amazon. (I cancelled it a few minutes later and he still hasn’t noticed.)
Somehow, anything that has to do with vacuuming does not make me feel free.
While I was on the internet, I discovered “Boomsticks”— the easiest way to “bring out your natural beauty at 50, 60, 70 and beyond” in 60 seconds or less! OK, I’ll bite. What could be more “freeing” than that? I now glow on Zoom sessions.
Scrolling the internet seems to be something many of us are doing even more often these days and my husband became very interested in a litter box that actually texts you when it needs to be changed. (We don’t have a cat but he thought maybe our dog could use it in the wee hours instead of waking us up.)
I suggested that he look into a new printer. We spent so much time trying to get our old one to work, a new one would free us immensely. He was overjoyed and got on it right away.
That night we went to a (social distance) dinner party given by some friends. (Busy day!) There were five couples there. After dinner, the women were sitting by the side of our host’s pool, dangling our feet and before long we were all swimming and splashing in our clothes. Only skinny dipping would have been more freeing — I haven’t ruled it out.
The next morning, I was holding up the silk top I had been wearing the night before, thinking about what its next life would be and my husband said: “Maybe we should get a pool.”
I love swimming more than anything but totally out of character I cautiously said, “Is it in the budget?”
I don’t think he heard me as he was calling someone we know to find out where they got their pool, etc., etc.
Stay with me here, but this whole scenario reminds me of when our youngest son, 25 years ago, brought a caterpillar into the house and we had to explain to him that he needed to put it back outside or it probably would not make it until the morning. He was so devastated to release his fuzzy friend that we promised him we would get him a bunny, and flash forward a day or two — we ended up buying him a dog.
So, I think we are seriously getting a pool. Stay tuned.
And if a dragonfly (or a caterpillar) comes into your life, be ready for quite a ride.