A fly got into our house.
It’s been cold lately, so I’ve no idea where this fly came from, whether it spontaneously generated inside the house or came from outside. It’s huge and slow-flying and annoying. My first reaction was, “What the heck! Stupid thing.”
In warmer weather, I wait until they land on the screen, then open the screen and shut the door or window until they leave. Can’t do that when it’s this cold.
As I watched this thing patrolling our house, I remembered about fifteen years ago, my father had a job in Vermont. It was February and the temperature hadn’t been in double-digits for days. The paper made crackling sounds when you brought it in from the box.
In his office, he looked up to find a fly banging against the window. He says his first thought was, “In this cold world, somehow, a fly egg has hatched.”
A far better attitude than mine, really.
When I found the thing in the kitchen again, I opened the side door and asked my guardian angel, “Bring that thing over here, okay?” and the fly hovered over to the screen door. Now it’s outside. Maybe cold, but not squished, and living out the rest of its fly-life the way it should.
And if it leaves the miracle of fly-eggs that will hatch in a cold world, at least they won’t be miraculous in my house.
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