Julia's Story

As recently mentioned, Lauren brought home a butterfly pupa from Florida. She loves Monarch butterflies, so was particularly excited that she would be "hatching" her very own.



We kept watch over the dark-colored cocoon for almost a week, and nothing happened. Then, last Thursday evening, right before Lauren was going to bed, I peered into the plastic container to see that the cocoon had become transparent, and the brilliant colors of the Monarch's wings were clearly visible.

I quickly called Lauren over and not two minutes later, ever so gingerly, "Julia" began to emerge (yes, that is the name given to her by Miss Lauren Jade. The complete name actually is "Julia, the California gurl" - spelling intentional, as in the Katy Perry song, for real.)

What an amazing process to behold.











We got to this point in about 30 minutes, so I thought for sure our girl would continue to unfurl her wings and be ready to take flight that very evening. I was so convinced that I told Lauren she could stay up past her bedtime to see it.

This was the expression I got right after making the announcement.



But then we waited. And waited. For over an hour. Lauren did everything she could in her power to will that little Monarch to fully emerge.



Finally, around 9 p.m., we put our frustrated but sleepy child to bed, promising to wake her if the release was to happen later that night.

The next day, Lauren bounded out of bed to see if Julia was still there. She was, and as Lauren excitedly approached her, I silently prayed for her to move. Please, I thought, don't let our child's dreams be dashed by finding a lifeless butterfly. Thankfully, Julia began moving her wings, although her poor little body was still trapped in the cocoon. She began flapping her wings even more, and the instructions said that was when we were to let her go, so we opened the container and set the lid on the table.



Try as she might, though, Julia just wasn't able to pull her lower half out of that cocoon. So back in the container she was carefully placed, hanging upside down once more.

As Lauren went off to school, I told her that Julia would most certainly be flying away while she was gone, so Lauren said her goodbyes. I couldn't bear to throw out the container so I tucked it into a hidden corner of our laundry room.

When I returned from work on Friday night, I half-heartedly looked at the container, certain that Julia was in butterfly heaven. But, no! She had managed to extricate herself from the cocoon and was holding onto the paper towel for dear life!!

Overjoyed, I called Lauren (and my parents, who were also at the house), and we paraded Julia outside to the nearest plant for her big send off.



Except Julia could. not. let. go. of. the. paper. towel. Our poor, sweet Monarch, who had traveled all the way from Florida, through a security checkpoint (maybe the scanner stunted her growth, or maybe the altitude did it?), blessed us by emerging and dazzling us with her beautiful presence, but her little body simply could not function as Mother Nature had intended.

Luckily, Lauren didn't know the difference, and since night was falling, we told her that Julia would flutter off into our backyard while we were all sleeping that night, to be one with the flowers and birds.

In the morning, Julia was gone (Mama couldn't bear to do anything, do Daddy manned up and gave her a proper burial). Lauren said she really missed her but hoped she was off finding a husband and making butterfly babies.

So that's Julia's story. Technically, I suppose, she was our first pet. A very special one, at that.