Transformation

Managing life's changes

One day, the caterpillar hangs upside down from a twig or leaf and molts into a shiny chrysalis. Within its protective casing, the caterpillar radically transforms its body, eventually emerging as a butterfly.

 

~Chapter 1 -  April, 2014~

The cab pulled up to the Radisson Blu Aqua Hotel on North Columbus Drive in Chicago, sunlight glinting off of the Chicago River meandering in the background. Jillianne absentmindedly paid the fare while looking at the calendar on her phone, noting that she had an icebreaker at 4, a reception at 5 and dinner at 7. Hopping out of the taxi, she grabbed her bags before the valet could move to help her, used to hauling her own luggage through parking lots, airports, and hotel lobbies.  Check-in was an easy process, and she was in her room on the 16^th floor, overlooking a breathtaking view of Millennium Park, within the half-hour. As she took a moment to drop her bags and look around at the well-appointed suite, she felt enveloped in an unexpected silence. No whine of a housekeeper’s vacuum in the hall or blare of a taxi’s horn on the street below penetrated the peace in that moment. She was alone and it was quiet, so quiet that she could hear herself breathing, hear the rustle of her dress against the cotton bedspread as she sat down. So quiet she could actually hear herself think. This IT conference was jammed in between a visit to cousins in San Francisco the past weekend and an eight day business trip to Europe for which she would leave in three days.  She’d barely had time to unpack and repack her suitcase before heading back to the airport to catch her flight earlier today. Yet oddly, she did not find the unexpected moment of tranquility soothing. Rather, she felt a sudden, overwhelming feeling of sadness sweep through her, surprising in its intensity. In that moment, she felt completely alone. Sorrow without a face, a sense of loss for something she could not name; it brought her off the bed to her knees in gut-wrenching pain, and then to tears. Caught completely off guard and defenseless, she let herself sob, keening to herself and rocking back and forth. For several minutes she let the anonymous grief wash over her, and then slowly, but as was her usual practice, raised her head, smoothed her brown hair back from her forehead, dried her eyes with her fists, and rose to her feet. “That’s enough of that,” she chided herself, and walked to the bathroom to wash her face, fix her makeup, and prepare for the upcoming icebreaker activity. “Enough,” she said again, more loudly this time, as if to convince herself. Looking at herself in the mirror, she decided that she looked presentable in her black pumps and black and white paisley sheath dress. But the sense of unease hung on her like an unwanted cloak until she made her way to the designated meeting room, grabbed her first glass of Chardonnay, and began introducing herself to the other attendees.