Metamorphosis

The Butterfly House, Smithsonian Museum of Natural History

Metamorphosis: a biological process by which an animal physically develops after birth or hatching, involving a conspicuous and relatively abrupt change in the animal’s body structure through cell growth and differentiation. Some insects, amphibians, mollusks, crustaceans, Cnidarians, echinoderms and tunicates undergo metamorphosis, which is usually (but not always) accompanied by a change of habitat or behavior. (good old Wikipedia)

As I approach my 30th birthday (this Wednesday… yikes!), I can’t help but reflect a bit on the goings on around me. Might have to do with two of my favorite people growing so quickly before my very eyes, or two more of my favorite people visiting us for the past two days (my Aunt Barb and Uncle Steve), or the culmination of these events plus what always happens at the beginning of a new year.

Reflection

Barbara, my deceased father’s younger sister, and her husband Steve have always been a huge part of my life. They each have a heart of gold (and fantastic taste in wine!), boundless energy, and have raised four incredible kids. They’ve been together since high school. They have worked their patooties off and now have time to travel from Boston to visit friends and family on their drive to Florida for a month-long holiday from Boston’s treacherous winter. They are naturals with all kids, not just their grandchildren, and Milo is so comfortable around them that it seems as if no time has passed since they last visited a year ago. It always feels that way, because they have kept us so close to them. They were there when my father passed away. I was twelve. They were there for our high school and college graduations, even when their own children were going through the same milestones and it would have been so easy to say, “We are just too busy.” Even when they lived so far away. They are so much a part of me and my brother and sister.

… Whatever the cause, my reflection runs deep. All of a sudden I have feelings welling up within me, memories of my father and my childhood, and of family reunions and laughter and the smell of wine on my parents’ breath as they held us on their laps and hugged us tightly, facing us out towards the people who make us who we are and then some… the people whose blood runs through our veins, and through our children. And I miss my father terribly. I wish he could see his grandchildren and hold them and wrestle them to the ground in furious tickle-wars. Or take them to the butterfly house and speak gently to them explaining what happens when a caterpillar finally comes out of its cocoon after all those weeks. How it is so beautifully changed with time and patience.

Turning 30 makes me think about my mortality. How, if I were to spend the same amount of time on Earth as he did, I would only have 12 years left. He was so young! And yet he taught me so much. And is still teaching me through the experience of knowing and losing him.

As I turn 30, I raise my glass (of milk) to celebrate family. Those aunts and uncles who make such effort, those friends who are more like sisters, those parents who are more like best friends, those buddies who are more like brothers…

Cheers!

Here’s to you!