treehouse duo

My own, very private faith dates back to my seventh summer and our annual vacation with my cousins on Chesapeake Bay.

[ … ]

I remember a little caterpillar we’d grown fond of during that long, hot July. A tiny Geometridae we played with and stroked and made up some childlike name for.

Howheartbroken we were when he seemed to have died. When he curled up tight in a silken cocoon and didn’t make a move for days.

We cried and cried and cried, but my uncle explained that nothing truly dies. Change was merely taking place as ice becomes water and water becomes gas and he was right, you know.

In a matter of days, a butterfly hatched from that hard, little chrysalis and took off in search of something far more interesting than Bruce Banner and his high-pitched cousin.

—  Ultimates 2 #3