A few days ago in the middle of the night, my sister woke me up, unintentionally, with her ranting. Though on the hindsight, I cannot call it a rant because the softness of her voice only kept it as a mutter. My sister, a gentle and unique soul, sleeps with her eyes open. Don’t be surprised; it’s not as rare as one might think, and it’s not completely open as one would assume. A half of her big googly eyes always sees everything. Maybe that’s why, she is always so vigilant even during the night: even in her sleep. A fly, a mosquito, or a cockroach could wake her up very easily, and that night, it was termites.
She was annoyed with their presence disturbing the serene atmosphere which envelops every uneventful night. If it was the common one which destroys wood, she might have had something to worry about, but this one was different, it’s called ‘winged termites’. The name and the underlying physiology might have some similarities but not the behavior of it. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t lie to my readers; what she found wasn’t actual flying termites but just their wings. Before she got to them, someone else did: mother nature herself.
I don’t know what grudge she had against that species because the flying termites I’m mentioning only lives a day; probably even less. They roam actively through the night and in the morning, leaving just their transparent perfect wings as a trace of their short lived life, they vanish.
I somewhere read that winged termites would shed their wings when they find a mate. Because they would have no use for them. After finding a mate, they would just coop under the soil with their partner to reproduce with them. My mind can’t help but to think of an anxious termite who would be too confused to shed its wings; maybe because it’s not sure if the partner it has is the one! Or maybe termites don’t have commitment issues like humans.
Anyway, the winged termites which I’m talking about don’t have these luxuries but only a cruel fate and a short one at that. They just simply die before the sun rise. Why am I fascinated with winged termites who lives less than a day? If you were to live only for one day, what would you do? Live it like crazy? or waste it, pouting? But as often we are mislead in this life, the real question is, does it even matter?
Wings lasted than life-
Spent counting perfect moments
Cruise through the seasons.
Inspired by Jilly’s 28 days of reason,
Fragile than wings – Jim Harrison.
Found a strange connection to the ‘perfect’ prompt over at dVerse, I’m sorry if the connection is too subtle (or even inexistence like ‘perfection’.)