Lifespan

Bugs gross me out. Mass groupings of insects send waves of repulsion through my body. For this reason, my nose was more than a little itchy when I saw two strange creatures mating on the back tire of my bike. They were large and seemed too drastically different to be engaging in reproductive activity. The one on top was vividly green, vibrant, and winged while the one on the bottom was the colour of dirt, dreary, and wingless. I grabbed a near-by stick, half-closed my eyes, knocked the mounted pair of my wheel and pedalled off to the camp bathroom.



Shortly after, I searched for the two lovebugs so that I could show my Dad. My Dad is a walking Wikipedia and despite my aversion to insects, curiosity trumped my disgust. I wanted to know what class of gross I was dealing with. Dad readily handled the pair of bugs and quickly pronounced them not two but one...one bug, a cicada. Cicadas emerge from their own bodies as a completely new creature. There is no spinning of a cocoon. It's not even a shedding of skin as a snake would do. Their actual body cracks open and they crawl out with a brand new one.


I know cicada bugs. Cicadas were my constant companion during the dozen years that I worked at a tree nursery. They are those irritating singers in the tops of trees who trill loudly when it's hot...as if we needed reminding. However, last week was the first time that I heard the story of the cicada bug. Dad told me that a cicada lives 11 years underground, tunnels above ground, mates, and dies. No wonder they're so obnoxious, I would be too if I lived such a brief life. The majority of their lifespan is spent beneath the earth. They burst forth from the dank dirt and are released from their drab, grub-like form as a fresh, green creature with the power of flight. That's exciting. That's incredible. All that fanfare happens just so they can mate and die.

With my eyebrow raised, I asked my Dad,"That's it? What's the point?" Both of us shrugged and shook our heads as Dad tried to give the bug a fighting chance on the trunk of a pinetree.

The point is that I am a new creature too. I am new. The old is gone. The span of my life is not long. I want to do more than just tick off a few people with a shrill song. Finding a mate is one of multiple longings stored in my heart, but not the most essential nor urgent. I lived 22 years in darkness. I will spend eternity in the light.