“Does the chrysalis hurt the butterfly?” me in a MySpace message to Izzy

Change. Growth. Transformation. Cells divide. Chromosomes link. The heart beats in time to the rhythm of samba, guaracha, hiphop, in tune with the singing of the frogs who have returned to croak outside my bedroom window. Sometimes the moon peeks through the blinds as I shift in my bed. And I am changing, every minute, every hour, every day.

I’ve been pondering caterpillars lately. What is it like inside the cocoon? Do they sleep? Move? Dream? What happens when their plump green bodies give way to slender limbs and colorful wings? Does it hurt? And when the beautiful new being emerges, is there some pain? Fear? Exhiliration?