My wife woke me up early one morning. She said there are dragonflies flying outside our window. She never noticed them before, she said. I was half-asleep, having downed a couple of beers the night before with my law school blockmates. Beer is supposed to be a no-no for someone who has no more gall bladder, but how can I not drink when I rarely see my blockmates since passing the bar exams years back?
Okay, enough with the excuses and on with the story.
As I said, I was half-asleep. Then, out of the blue, she hit me with two questions – questions she justified as something Enzo, our son, would later ask and so I better be prepared with the answer. She asked, “Why are they called dragonflies?” Without checking if I’m still breathing, having been hit with the first question, she casually followed up with: “Yes, same with butterflies. Why are they called butterflies?”.
I have a ready answer if Enzo would later ask me that question – “I have a headache; go ask your mother.” But here I am, confronted with the reality that I could never use the “headache” excuse. Indeed, dragonflies don’t look like dragons, although some dragons fly in fairytales and movies. I could assume that “butterflies”, like butter, are delicate and “melts” easily when you hold them; hence, “butterflies”. But “dragonfly”?
Unless someone steps up and slaps me with the answer, I won’t even bother checking why those flying insects (that don’t resemble dragons) are called “dragonflies”. Anyway, by the time Enzo grows up, those dragonflies might not be around due to pollution and the things we are doing with Mother Earth.
Maybe, unlike our generation, my son would no longer see fireflies in a dark night, momentarily illuminated by a falling star. He may not see birds and animals, except in zoos, the Discovery Channel, Animal Planet or National Geographic. He may not enjoy chasing after frogs while enjoying the pouring rain with his friends, just like we did when we were young.
He may not have the opportunity of waking up in the morning, with dragonflies fluterring outside the window.
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