July 18, 2004 ~ Who You Wanted to Be
Sunday.
As we made our way toward the car, I let go Morgan's hand, eyes fixed above me, zigzagging back and forth, turning circles, trying to follow one of the biggest moths I'd ever seen in its erratic flight. Finally it landed in front of me and I crouched to get a closer look. But it fluttered up again, landed on a car. Luminous there beneath the area light. It was large, about five inches wingspan, and a beautiful dusty golden color with maroon markings. A dusty pale yellow body. I was in awe.
"What do you think it is?" Morgan asked.
"I don't know my moths very well, but I think it's a Yellow Emperor. That's the old name, anyway. Heh. From a novel I read..."
It took off again, flew in circles around us, then landed on my skirt. I held perfectly still, and Morgan stood there smiling. "Beautiful," he said.
We both admired the moth for several more minutes, then it fluttered off again.
"What do moths eat?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't think that species eats, as adults. They emerge, mate, lay eggs if they are female, then die, in a matter of days. Creatures of such fleeting beauty."
We got in the car, and fell into a happy silence, both immersed in our own thoughts.
"Wow," Morgan said softly. I followed his gaze through the windshield to the bumper sticker on the car in front of us. Six words.
Remember who you wanted to be.
"That is one of the most profound bumper stickers I've ever seen," he said.
Remember who you wanted to be. It is quite a little sentence for a bumper sticker. "Wanted," past tense. And not what you wanted to be, not a career choice, no, but who you wanted to be. Your person. Your self. Who are you? Who did you want to be? Are you who you wanted to be? Have you pursued an examined life, a directed life, a conscientious life?
Or have you slipped into a complacent life? Have you abandoned goals? Settled? Have you buried that core self, that fundamental yearning, the meaning of your life?
Each individual reading that bumper sticker could be hit with either a satisfied assurance or a melancholy regret. It's the sort of statement one can't resist really thinking seriously about. At least, I couldn't. It captured me and put me into an introspective lull.
Am I who I wanted to be? For the most part, I think so. At least, I'm firmly on the road toward being her. The sort of woman who stops to admire the small wonder of a moth.
Note: Turns out they are now called Imperial moths.
|
