When Papa died, Mother died too. She had too much grief of her own after losing her soul mate to help Annalise cope with her young sadness. The little girl began to see less and less of the woman her mother used to be: The lines on her forehead suggested more age than she had lived and the light in her eyes left when husband’s soul did. Lately, Annalise found her mother’s voice filled not with anger, but with something much more frightening: indifference.

Feeling unwanted in her own home, Annalise willed her tears away and retreated to the rickety tree house she and Papa had built together. The moment she escaped outside, it became obvious the universe itself was grieving Papa’s death with angry, unforgiving heat. Beads of sweat began to line her forehead and mix with the tears that streamed down her cheeks as Annalise crumpled at the base of the tree.
• • •
Bodies as small as paper clips absorb heat fast, Oscar and Alphonse had learned this particularly cruel summer. The sun’s rays made the soil blistering hot and the precious moisture of the leaves vanish: rather problematic conditions for caterpillars. Oscar and Alphonse searched for relief, settling for a portion of shade under a large tree, but the warmth continued to punish their small bodies. Suddenly though, Alphonse was flooded in relief thanks to a single water drop, as if a cloud had shed just one tear instead of the usual tantrum of rain. The water evaporated into the dry heat as fast as it fell, leaving behind only salty crystals and a fleeting memory of coolness. Without warning, a second drop followed, then another, and soon the caterpillars enjoyed their own rainstorm. Much to their dismay, the reprieve halted too soon and was replaced by the sound of a deep sob. Straining their pea-sized necks upward, they took in the sight of a girl, which was little more than a fuzzy outline due to their small eyes struggling to capture her large image.

The caterpillars watched sadly as Annalise’s body shook with grief. Though her insides flooded with pain her skin felt as numb as her mother’s attitude, so she didn’t notice two sets of tiny legs begin to crawl up her leg. But as they continued their tract, Annalise finally raised her head to wipe her tear-stained face. She was met with the most unusual sight: two fuzzy bodies on her own. For the first time since Papa left, a small smile crept through her sadness; He’d always stressed the importance of respecting nature. As the bugs neared her arm, she lifted one sweaty finger and gently stroked Oscar’s body.  The caterpillar didn’t flinch. In fact, he seemed determined to continue on his set route. Leaning against the hot bark, Annalise watched intently as their small bodies traced a specific path. Letters, she finally realized.

“What is wrong” they spelt, forgoing proper punctuation for the sake of exhaustion.

“My Papa died,” she explained, and as the caterpillars seemed to consider their response she added sadly, “and my mother doesn’t love me.”

“We do,” they traced on her thigh. She allowed another smile to appear: It seemed Papa had contacted her in the most unusual of ways.
• • •
Mother’s apathy began to morph into hatred toward the biggest reminder of the husband she once had, just as Annalise’s visit with Oscar and Alphonse morphed into a long friendship. But soon, the plummeting temperatures made the three friends long for the summer’s blazing heat. After hundreds of caterpillar-sized messages, the saddest one yet came on a frigid November evening.

“It is time for us to go.”

The all too familiar tears fell from Annalise’s eyes. In a sharp contrast to their first encounter, these tears made Alphonse cringe in the bitter cold and Oscar shiver in pain. The little girl felt a surge of empathy, finally something other than the hollowing loss she’d grown accustomed too: As much as it would hurt to let her friends go, it hurt more to see them in pain.

“Stay strong,” they struggled to trace on her goose-bumped skin. She knew it was time to send them back. The caterpillars softly wiggled in her hand, spelling out “goodbye.” Despite the fear of loneliness that was sure to come, Annalise carefully placed Oscar and Alphonse on the frosty ground and let a final tear fall as they buried themselves deep into the earth to hibernate. Annalise tucked the memory of their kind messages into her mind, next to that of Papa’s goodnight hugs and the taste of her mother’s famous biscuits.

She’d later wonder if Oscar and Alphonse were a message from her late father or a tangent of her own grieving imagination. It didn’t matter, she’d decide, for the two things were so interconnected they might as well be the same.