"The Message"

 

I've had a lot of time to think while I've been in here. Once I was able to come by some paper and a pencil, I finally put the time to use. That's when I started writing her the letters, just to let her know that I was okay.

I don't know how a caterpillar ended up in a prison yard. There's a really heavy metaphor in there somewhere, though. At least it feels like there is. But when I saw the caterpillar the other day, I remembered this story my grandma told me once about a girl who whispered a message to a caterpillar, and when the caterpillar hatched into a butterfly, it had the message written all across its wings. Not sure what put that story back in my head that after all these years. As I said, I've had a lot of time to think.

Today I found my caterpillar in the yard. The flies had found it, or at least the piece of it that was still there on the pavement, before I did. And I hate having this thought now with the picture of that squished little thing so close by in my mind, but the person I've been writing to, she hasn't written back to any of my letters yet. I just hope she's getting them. And I hope she's okay. Because when I write them, even when I finish them, and I fold them up and bring their edges close, I feel free. For a little while, anyway.