I Wish I Were a Butterfly

I Wish I Were a ButterflyBy James HoweFor most of the crickets in Swampswallow Pond, sunrise was a happy time. They came out of their tunnel-dark homes and celebrated the light of day with a fiddlers song. But the littlest cricket was sad. “I want to stay here,” he told his mother. “In the dark?” she asked. “What will you do in the dark? You must come outside to make music.”“Then I wont make music,” said the littlest cricket defiantly. “I dont have anything to sing bout anyway.”“You dont want to come outside. You dont want to make music. The next thing you know,” his mother scolded, “you wont want to be a cricket.” The littlest cricket sighed. Had his mother guessed his secret? “I wish I were a butterfly,” he said softly. But his mother didnt hear.“Outside with you this minute,” she said.The littlest cricket knew better than to argue. Out into the bright daylight he went.But he did not make any music.The sound of the other crickets fiddling was more than he could bear. “Why are they so happy being crickets?” he asked out loud. “Perhaps they dont know what I do.” “And what is that you know?” asked a passing glowworm.The littlest cricket said, “I know that I am ugly.”“Who told you such a thing?” the glowworm asked?“The frog who lives at the edge of the pond. He told me that I am the ugliest creature he ever saw.“Well, said the glowworm, inspecting the littlest cricket with care, “you are not the handsomest thing in the world, but you are far from the ugliest. Look at me, Im no beauty myself.”“But you will change into a lightening bug,” the littlest cricket said, “while I will always be a cricket. An ugly, ugly cricket. I wish I were a butterfly.”“Theres no use wishing for what cant be,” said the glowworm, going on his way. “Being a cricket seems fine enough to me.”“Thats easy for him to say,” said the littlest cricket. “He will be a lightening bug someday. And the frog who lives at the edge of the pond will never find him ugly.”“What do you care what the frog at the edge of the pond has to say?” a ladybug asked from atop a daisy. “If he told me I was ugly, I wouldnt care one bit.”“But who would ever say you were ugly” asked the littlest cricket. “Everyone can see how lovely you are. I am the color of a lump of dirt, but you you are the color of laughter, if such a thing could be.”This amused the ladybug. “Perhaps you are right,” she said. “But then you must learn to be content with what you are and not mind what a silly old frog tells you.”“That is easy for you to say,” said the littlest cricket as the ladybug flew away. “Oh I wish I were a butterfly.”He jumped onto a lily pad and drifted across the pond. Ill talk to the old one he thought. Shell help me.But seeing his reflection in the water, the littlest cricket started to cry. “Why am I so ugly?” he asked his mirrored self. “Why cant I be - ?”The cricket looked up to see a dragonfly darting about overhead. “I couldnt help but hear your moaning and groaning,” said the dragonfly. “It isnt right to be envious of others, you know. Its true that Im a magnificent creature, but so are you n your own way, Im sure.”“Hmph,” said the littlest cricket. “You fly around with your whispery wings and your body all covered with jewels and tell me that I am magnificent? Please, Mister Dragonfly, go away. You dont understand. You cant understand. I wish I were a butterfly.”“Well, you are not a butterfly and never shall be,” the dragonfly said firmly. “And wishing is a waste of time.”The littlest cricket blinked and the dragonfly was gone. Its easy to be happy he thought, when you are a glistening dragonfly. Its easy to be happy if you are anything but an ugly cricket like me. In the middle of her web on the other side of Swampswallow pond, the Old One was waiting. “I am good at waiting,” she had told the cricket once. “That is a spiders life spinning, and waiting, waiting and spinning.”Today, when the Old One saw the littlest cricket hop off the lily pad, she could see how sad he was. “Its a lovely day,” the Old One called out. “And lovely days are too short to wear long faces. Whats wrong my friend?”“I am ugly,” said the littlest cricket.“Whoever told you that?” asked the spider. “The frog who lives at the edge of the pond. I am the ugliest thing that ever lived. Oh how I wish I were a butterfly.”The Old One began to laugh. “Butterflies are pretty enough to look at,” she said, “but they are no more special than you.”“Not special?” cried the littlest cricket. “They are the most beautiful creatures in Swampswallow pond and maybe in all the world. I wish I were as special as that.”The Old One said nothing but continued to laugh.“I thought you would understand,” the littlest cricket said. “You dont envy the butterfly because youre so beautiful yourself.”“The spider stopped laughing at once. You think that I am beautiful?” she asked.The cricket nodded.“But Ive been told that Im the ugliest creature in Swampswallow pond, maybe in all the world.”The cricket looked surprised. “Did the frog who lives at the edge of the pond tell you that?”“Not only the frog,” said the Old One, “Why if I were to believe what everyone says about me, I would think myself quite, quite ugly. But I dont believe everyone, you see. And I certainly dont believe that grumpy old frog. I believe you because you are my friend. You think Im beautiful and so I am.”“You are beautiful,” the littlest cricket said. “But I still wish I were a butterfly.”The Old One asked the cricket to follow her to the waters edge. “Look,” she said. “What do you see?”“A beautiful you and an ugly me,” replied the cricket. ”What do you see?” “Two beautiful friends.”The cricket gazed at himself for a long time. “Am I really beautiful?” he asked at last.“To me you are,” the Old One said. “More beautiful than any butterfly Ive ever seen.”The littlest cricket looked back at his reflection and, to his surprise, his ugliness began to fade away.Suddenly, a gust of wind rippled the water.“Look,” said the cricket, turning around. “Your web- the wind has blown away your web.”“Ah well,” the spider said, “then I must begin again. Wait and spin, spin and wait- its a spiders life. But it would make the time pass more quickly if I had some music to work to.”As the Old one began to spin a new web, the littlest cricket began to fiddle. And a butterfly, flying past, heard the sound and said, “What beautiful music that creature makes. I wish I were a cricket.”