Pond of Life

"The Pond of Life"

One rainy afternoon on March 10th, I was born.

Pepin the caterpillar was not impressed.

“Too wet!” he grumbled, shaking himself as raindrops slid off his back.

Pepin had just finished losing his extra weight and becoming exactly who he was meant to be. Instead of celebrating, he complained.

Too wet.

Too windy.

Too bright.

Too everything.

My sisters and I tried not to laugh. We loved the rain. Rain meant beginnings.

There were four of us: Billy, Regina, Madeleine… and me, Rosie.

All we had to do was survive our first few hours near the pond. Birds were always watching for prey (us) so we practised hiding among leaves and reeds. Some of our cousins used poison for protection. Not us. We preferred to smell like flowers in France.

Soon, our wings dried.

Left. Right.

Up. Down.

Flying was harder than it looked. We bumped into each other so often that Regina declared, “We need a system!” So we invented a dance. One after the other, they circled the pond in the same direction.

No more bonks.

Pepin had a brother named Koko. Koko was smaller and greener and always seemed to be smiling. In the evenings, when the frogs croaked softly and the light turned golden, Koko told stories about secret petals and hidden garden corners.

Pepin rolled his eyes.

Then one morning, something new appeared.

A buzzing tower of bees near the old willow tree.

“This was not here yesterday,” whispered Madeleine.

The young insects gathered in excitement. Even Pepin straightened up.

And then, of course, Pepin cleared his throat.

“I shall explain everything,” he announced.

He did not know everything.

But that had never stopped him before.

He spoke of royal bees and honey capybaras. And bees who slept in silk pyjamas. The little ones listened wide-eyed.

From beneath the rose bushes, a pair of field mice listened, too.

They knew a thing or two about bees.

The next afternoon, instead of arguing, the mice brought Pepin a book from the garden library.

The Life of the Bee.

They handed it to him with great ceremony.

Pepin blinked.

For a moment, we feared thunder.

But instead, something surprising happened.

Pepin read.

He read about teamwork and patience. About bees dancing to share directions. About how every bee matters.

The next day, when Pepin gave his "lecture", something had changed.

He spoke softly. He asked questions.

He even said, “I learnt something new yesterday.”

The pond felt warmer after that.

Spring arrived quietly, painting everything in impossible colours. The frogs sang louder. The flowers stretched. Even Pepin complained less.

And then came the biggest surprise of all.

Maria, the lady from the house, placed a little wooden house near the pond for her gentle brown dog. The dog was going to have puppies.

We watched from the reeds as the miracle unfolded one quiet night.

Tiny noses. Tiny paws. Tiny breaths.

Billy whispered, “They can’t fly.”

“Not yet,” I said.

Because that is what we had learned at the pond.

Everyone learns to fly in their own time.

Some with wings.

Some with courage.

Some by listening instead of talking.

And if you look very closely at the pond at sunset, you might still see four butterflies circling in perfect rhythm…

And one green caterpillar is reading very carefully from a book.

🌱