“You see, without the weird phase. Without the work, the struggle, there’d be no victory. Without the ugliness, there’d be no beauty.”
“So… the only way to get there—” I pointed at the blue sky where butterflies all over the world spread their wings, then at the fuzzy caterpillar squirming in my papa’s hands. “—is to start here?”
“That’s right.” Dad nodded in satisfaction before presenting me with an unexpected gift—the caterpillar itself. First, he’d eased my contracted fist open, and then he’d transferred the fragile little guy over from his palm to mine.
Looking at him then, he wasn’t weird anymore.
Or gross.
He was a fighter.
Here to remind us that it’s okay to struggle and fall.
Because if you didn’t… then how would you ever fly?