The first studio I had (outside of my home) was a cozy little 700 sqft space in a business center just outside the busy midsection of Jonesboro. Concrete and bricks and cars and parking lot. There wasn’t a lot of appeal outside the doors of that studio for nature to inhabit.
I had arrived at the studio to get ready for a newborn session I had that afternoon. Walking up to the door I noticed this large grasshopper, very out of place, and having a slight lean to her posture. Something was wrong with her. I went in and sat my bags down, then back out to the sidewalk to inspect a bit closer.
I picked her up and gave her a good looking over. Her body seemed to be intact. As far as I could tell, she wasn’t missing a limb or anything…she didn’t seem to have an injury…she couldn’t keep herself standing up right very well, her movements were very slow, and she never once tried to jump or fly away. I cradled her in my hands and we went into the studio together.
I’ve always been an empathetic person…to a fault. I feel things very deeply. I assign feelings to things that (probably) don’t have feelings at all (like my childhood dolls who are all stuffed in a storage container together and not on my bed like they used to be. *I’m sorry, dolls*……..see what I mean?!) Anyway, as I held this grasshopper, determined to be with her as she crossed the rainbow bridge, I started thinking about her life. Where all had she been? Did she have a favorite place to stay, or a favorite food? Did she have friends or family? Had she had any children? I wondered if she’d enjoyed the life she’d lived…if she was hurting…if she knew she was dying.
Then I started to think about what would happen when she died. Had there been any other human on this planet that had gotten to experience her? Was it just me? Who would remember her when she died? Who would remember her once I died? (I told you….empathetic to a dag-gum fault).
So I talked to her and asked if I could take her photo. She didn't seem to protest. I grabbed my favorite wood crate and placed it on one of my backdrops near the door. I didn’t want to use any of my lighting because I didn’t want to scare her. She was used to the sunlight, the sunlight looked good on her, and that was good enough for me. I took a few photos, then went back to holding her.
After about 20 minutes, she didn’t move anymore. And, her lean was so pronounced that without giving her stabilization, she would fall over completely to the side.
I took my grasshopper friend back outside and laid her gently at the base of the flowers in the flower pot I had outside the studio so nature could run its course and return her body to the earth.
Every time I saw my flowers bloom, I thought of my grasshopper friend.
I’m so glad I have this photo of her. It reminds me of her presence in my life, that caused me to set aside what I thought I needed to do and offer a bit of comfort and compassion to someone else.
I’m also glad I have this photo, and that I’m sharing it and this story with all of you on the internet…because now I’m not the only one who got to experience this beautiful grasshopper, and you can be part of the remembering as well.
Thanks for reading!
-M-