Winged Princess

The car had needed washing for several days, so tonight, despite feeling tired and exhausted, I decided to just go for it.

The rinsing and washing part never takes long.  It's the towel drying that's time-consuming.  Or rather, the "diaper-drying".

The evening had fallen and it was getting a little too dark for proper spot-free drying.  At least it was better than attempting to wash this big black boy in the blazing sun.

Suddenly I saw a faint "X" shape on the side of the car.  My swirling diaper stopped short of wiping out the shape... which had a little wiggling three-dimensional "something" at the center.  Something like an insect's body.

It was some sort of winged creature who had suffered the misfortune of somehow landing upside down on the wet surface of our automobile.  Each of the four wings was stuck as if with wet plaster to the black surface.

In my heart I felt something.  Compassion.  Pity with a desire to help.  It was literally a physical feeling.  Something like a tingle in the upper center of my abdomen.

This little lady was wiggling her body and pedaling her feet like mad in at attempt to free herself.  The futility of her efforts was clear to me.  Surface tension, for the tiny, can be a [censored].

Was she doomed?  What to do?

I dropped my towels over the back of a chair and ran into the house.  In the kitchen I saw a long sharp bread knife.  That should do...  I grabbed it, and ran back outside to the car.

Once again facing my little struggling beauty, I gently moved the blade beneath one of her wet, stuck wings. Once released from the molecular bond of the water against the paint of the car, it quickly popped up.  Then another wing.  Now her body was at more of a 45-degree angle.  She continued to wiggle and flail her legs.

The knife worked its way under her final two wings.  As it did so, she found the edge of the blade with her reach, and suddenly she grabbed it.  There!  She was now free from the car, and standing on the edge of the blade.  Her wings flapped with a blur, drying in preparation for what was hoped to be her restored freedom of flight.

Walking quickly into the light of a nearby outdoor lamp, I took a closer look.

What???   I suddenly recognized "what" she was.  A termite.  A winged termite.

I hate termites!  These destructive creatures once ate Popeye the Sailor's house right down to the ground!

Normally I kill any termites I see near our apartment, either inside or out.  At our old apartment house in La Mesa, we once had to spend a night at a motel while our abode was tented to be rid of these vile villains.  Damn them.  Damn them all!

A tree in our back yard has been infiltrated by termites, and nearly eaten out hollow.  Death to all termites!

Yet, here she was, my little winged princess, flapping her wings at the edge of my knife.  How I'd felt for her a few moments ago, fearing that whoever she was, her days of winged freedom might permanently be over with.

And now...

The emotions of compassion and appreciation for life, no matter how small, won out.

I flicked the knife to knock her off the blade, and watched her flutter away.  Toward our apartment.

To continue on whatever life path she chose to follow from then on.

I know she probably has no appreciation for what I did for her.  No capacity for gratitude.

Yet she and I have something in common.

We both possess a gift which we neither asked for nor could ever provide for ourselves.

Life.

Winged princess, let us enjoy life as we have been given it.