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| Lying quietly in the street London, ON July 2019 This photo originally shared on Instagram |
I stood in the middle of a hushed side street, looked down at the remnants of what was once very much alive, and realized I couldn't remember the last time I had seen a dead butterfly.
One one level, it seems ridiculous for anyone, much less a grown man, to hover over a dead bug and ponder the meaning of its life. I mean, it's a freaking bug. Get over it, Levy.
But there are no rules governing what does and does not move us. Or what might trigger a thought or a reflection. I probably kill countless bugs every day by inadvertently stepping on them. And let's not discuss the massacre in the front end of my car when we drive on the highway. Our road warrior life this past year has clearly been a threat to insect populations across Ontario and Quebec.
But at this one early morning moment, in the quiet of a neighborhood still shaking off the cobwebs of the previous night, it somehow mattered. To me, and even to Calli, who gave it a quick sniff before backing away.
Strange how this life thing plays out. I hope this butterfly's life was a good one.
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