I am of two minds regarding my status as a jubilada, a retired person. Part of me has long dreaded the idea of retirement because of the whole "advanced age" thing, this nearness to death, the final stage, the very winter of my life. Of course, there was a long time when I viewed an age in the mid-60s as downright decrepit. The other, much smarter part of me realizes that I may easily live quite vibrantly another 20 or 25 years, with luck, and isn't it marvelous to have so few responsibilities in this relatively youthful stage of the last third of my life?
This afternoon, I had a half-cantaloupe for lunch. I put aside the scooped-out remains while I was working at my laptop. Some flies gathered to feast on the leftover melon, and I briefly considered its removal to the waste can. Then, a brightly painted butterfly alit, its torn wings still brilliant with vivid shades of yellow, orange, black and white suggested that it was nearing the end of its lifespan. The butterfly extended its proboscis and tucked in to the cantaloupe flesh, flexing its wings now and then, leisurely enjoying the sweetness. It loitered thusly for a good ten minutes, and then flew off for awhile before returning to renew its addresses to the melon.
I wondered if the butterfly had an instinctive understanding that it was not long for this world. I wondered if it would linger as long as the melon rind were available, hoping to be nicely sated at the moment of death. Or was it just tired after meeting its obligation to mate and lay eggs for the next cycle of butterfly life, and just wanted to relax and drink? It sat on my table, returning to the melon again and again. Such a lovely creature. I crept away to get my camera, and when I returned, the butterfly had flown. An internet pic will have to suffice.
Is it too early for a glass of wine?
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