Cicada carcasses cover my lawn like battled war victims. I read that the Chinese see these insects as a symbol of rebirth. How fitting, as my husband and I shed our southern skins, fried wings and all, for a sleeker northern coat.
Sometimes, it takes years for these creatures to emerge from underground, where they suck up food from plant roots. When ready, they emerge from the earth, eager to take residence in your front garden or neighborhood trees.
Eric and I have spent years hibernating, marinating in the juices of moving north. It seems it is now time for us to "uproot" and leave our shells behind. In actuality, there are things I am happy to leave behind: tornadoes, sloppy summers that miss their cue to exit, millions of "W" stickers, extremely limited vegetarian and/or organic restaurants, rednecks who complain about "rednecks," an entire population's love of barbeque, and so on.
I'd also love to leave behind my anxiety, the reality of 9/11, layoffs, undesirable neighbors, and superficiality, but I realize some things either can't be denied or abolished from my future - or past - with the wave of a wand (maybe with the shake of a stick or the drop of a hat...?).
My swan songs have begun, and they do resemble the cicada's. They are quiet at times, and then rise in volume and intensity when you aren't noticing. Are you noticing? They cling to me at night, as the sun fades, and the day takes off her kerchief.
But, they leave as my head hits the pillow, and a smile spreads wide across my face. A smile so wide, I could probably travel its length up to Maryland.
No comments:
Post a Comment