When I was a little girl, in school we were learning about the cycles of butterflies. Each student was given a caterpillar in a small medicine sized clear jar. On the top cap, there was a hole punched through it with a piece of breathable tape over it so the caterpillar got oxygen. The ca was childproof obviously because we needed to be able to feed it. We went outside and picked out sticks for the caterpillar to crawl on and leaves for them to eat. And at the top eventually when they got nice a plump enough, they crawled to the lid and curled into a j-shape and formed a cocoon around themselves. At this point, we all had to be patient and wait for them to emerge from their chrysalis. Once they did,we were allowed to take them home and we were given instructions on how to take care of them and what we needed to do. I absolutely LOVED my butterfly. I followed the care instructions to the letter. I made sure i made it sugar water cotton balls to eat. I let it fly around my room and i had a really fun time with it. It was the second half of the instructions. Had a bad time with. Obviously butterflies don’t live very long and the instructions sad to release it after it emerges from it cocoon after like a week or so. Well I didn’t want to let it go. I thought it was a pretty. A monarch. So one day i got up like any other day and my poor little butterfly had died. It never got to know nature in the wild. I realized afterwards the harm of not being able to let something go. It hurt me as a little kid, even though it seems silly. Everything leaves at some point or another. It’s just the way of life.