October 24, 2007

• Butterfly Time

  A few years ago, the boys and I were still homeschooling and the question arose, "How long does a Monarch butterfly live?"

  The answer when we looked it up, surprised and shocked me.  It depends on when the butterfly is born.  Most Monarchs live about 2-3 months, a time span shorter than the time required for their seasonal migrations so when the butterflies leave their northern home, it is the next generation after them that reaches their southern stopover. 

  The last generation born at the end of the summer has an average life span of 7-8 months.  Long enough to winter in easy climate conditions and then begin the journey north.  Somewhere along the way, this generation fades one by one and the millions of butterflies that arrive in their Spring migration are the children who were born in route. 

  So from the same butterfly parents, it's possible to have children with an average life expectancy of 2 months, and children who will live 3-4 times that long.  The difference between monarch butterflies and all the rest of us is that its possible to know in advance which butterflies will live with which set of different expectations. 

  When we start out in life, there are so many factors that play into the equation of health and happiness that it's almost impossible to know other than in the aggregate sense who will make it to what milestone on the path.  I've been thinking about this because I've been thinking about the impact on my life of one butterfly in particular.

  I wrote a blog about a conversation with Kristi that took place almost 5 years ago.  She and I lost touch during a number of years when she traveled with her Air Force career husband.  But then they came home to our little town in Arkansas and settled in to finish raising their three children.  Kristi was delighted to be back in the world of Friday night high school football games and Saturdays spent rooting for the Hawgs.  As so often has happened, she crossed paths with a member of my family who got her phone number and passed it on to me.

  In the blogged about conversation, Kristi gave me a word that redefined my view of myself and prompted a drastic shift in my life's direction.  She told me that even though she hadn't seen me in years, she knew what I must look like because she had held me in her mind's eye and I was tiny. 

  On the day she said that she had know way of knowing that I was struggling with despair over my weight, and that I had tipped the scale that morning at 285 even after months of "dieting".  But her laughing insistence that she knew for sure got through to me.  And made me question a great many words that I had come to believe were an accurate description of me, my body, and my reasonable expectation of success on all kinds of fronts.   It made a difference.  Over the next year, I lost 100 pounds which I have for the most part kept off.  I'm far far healthier today than I could have imagined before I picked up the phone and called her. 

  When I've had opportunity to be in Malvern since then, I've stopped in to visit with her.  Never for long enough.  But you always assume there will be more time, later; when work is finished; the kids are grown; there's a bright end to busyness.

  Word came to me during the midst of my packing up for the move to New Mexico that Kristi had been diagnosed with leukemia.  I had thought that I would make certain time to call and visit with her once I got settled and that we would catch up again.  But ...

  She was allowed to leave the hospital last week for time at home with her family.  Friday night was the Homecoming game in Malvern, and my sister said that she believes Kristi was able to attend.  But then on Sunday something happened that frightened her family, so they made the journey back to Dallas where she's been in treatment.  Kristi died there yesterday morning. 

  I've known many butterflies.  Many have flown about my life and made it a place of beauty.  This one landed on my arm and made a difference. 

  Somewhere in a box, I have photos from when we were at the University of Arkansas, but right now, I have no idea where those photos might be and the box is probably in storage. 

  

  In this photo from our high school yearbook, I'm in the front wearing the letter sweater.  Kristi is standing in the back next to the tree. 

  
  

  

  Kristi Parker Norris
  1963-2007

  • 5:31 am
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