I'm going to be gone for a couple of days so I thought I'd get a little philosophical on ya before I left. You know, give you something to think about. I read this a few years ago in a novel and being a nature person, I liked it. The book is by Karen White, called The Color of Light. It's fiction, most of my reads are fiction. Grace is a young girl, probably 7 or 8 (can't remember for sure, maybe younger), Linc is her Mama's boyfriend, and Constance is going to be a butterfly.
But Grace has already shifted her attention back to the glass jar with the emerging butterfly. "How long do you think it'll take before Constance is ready to come out?
Linc placed his empty glass on the side railing and moved closer. Squatting, he studied the oblong shape of the chrysalis, hanging by mere threads to the twig that held it. The small split in the side was larger now, the subtle movements shifting the chrysalis on its thread.
"I'm not sure. Maybe a day or two would be my guess." Gracie put her head close to his and peered into the jar. "I think it should take years. It's a big thing to go from crawling to flying, don't you think?"
My question is...when was the last time you did something that made you feel like you went from crawling to flying? What was it?