But I'm droning on about it anyway.
Picture this: I'm lounging in the Embassy Suites hot tub [which is entirely too hot, if you can believe it] reading this chick lit novel called "Flirting With Forty" by Jane Porter. So usually not my cup of tea, but eh, it cost me ten cents at a church bazaar, and for that price, who's gonna argue? Anyway...yeah, I'm more into hardcore brainy thrillers [think "Digital Fortress" by Dan Brown] but I decided to read this book anyway. As it turns out, the book isn't half bad. It's actually got some sincere moments of wit, but it's mostly too "lovelovechickychickyblaaahhh" for me. But I always finish books. God, I'm a rambler. So I'm a little more than halfway through this monstrosity [just kidding, it's really an okay book], and I come across this:
"I'm not a caterpillar in a little cocoon anymore. I've broken out. If I follow the analogy, I'm a butterfly now. But what I don't understand is how in the hell did my caterpillar body become that of a butterfly? How did that fuzzy thick green body become long and slender with wings? And even if I don't understand how the caterpillar metamorphosed, the fact is, I am different now. I've got these big wings."
Well, you people know me. You know how I feel about butterflies. But THIS...it truly captures EXACTLY how I feel. How did I become so beautiful? How did I turn into this perfect little person when I feel so IMperfect. It's a pretty good ponderance. I don't exactly have an answer, and maybe I'm really not supposed to. Maybe we're not meant to know things like this.
Just a little something to think about =]
XO,
Kerry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment