The Little Moth in the Storm
My first week at X city, I was still living out of a hotel until I got settled in. It was incredibly stormy, wind strong enough to turn your umbrella inside out and rain so heavy there was no way to walk without your heels kicking water up the back of your calves.
I was looking down and trying in vain not to kick up said water while rushing to work, when I saw a tiny, bedraggled moth sitting miserably on the shallowest part of the flooded sidewalk.
I put my hand next to it, and it climbed into my hand immediately. One hand holding my brand new umbrella, one hand holding the moth. Its "fur" was completely soaked through and its antenna was slicked back to its body. I figured it'd sit on my hand for a while until it warmed up, but it started crawling up my hand, my arm, my shoulder... I lost it somewhere in the folds of my trenchcoat while waiting at a traffic light. A lady behind me spotted the little moth on my back and made to (whack it? Shoo it? I'm not sure) and in my broken X-nese I told her it's okay, it's very small and quickly bolted when the light turned green.
Somehow I managed to get the moth back to my front while juggling an umbrella, a backpack and multiple layers of clothing. It climbed onto my left hand gripping the umbrella and stubbornly sat there. So I used my other hand to shield it as much as I could and continued rushing through the storm.
Even without the rain the city was grey, grey, grey. There was no greenery around I could release the moth to, and the few trees and bushes around were bare and rotten. My idea was to try and let the moth go in the tangled brambles next to my office, hoping it'll be enough shelter from the rain and any birds around.
The wind roared and forced my brand new, pretty umbrella inside out, my hair over my face, my coat sash undone. But that little moth stayed right there on my hand! I saw the wind tear at its wings and its tiny legs, clinging desperately to my little finger, while I tried desperately to invert my umbrella back and fix my coat, all while trying to protect the little moth and not accidentally crush it in the chaos.
This happened a few times. The moth through some fortitude of strength clung on to my little finger even through the fierce X city winds. I'd stop to shrug the hair out of my face (since both my hands were occupied) while the moth smoothed back its wings.
We braved the storm together, we dodged crazy motorbikes together, we quickly moved on from curious pedestrians once the pedestrian light turned green.
(I wonder what they thought, looking at the girl with the fish umbrella and a scruffy moth perched on her hand)
When I reached my office, the rain had let up. I placed my hand into the dead branches next to my office and coaxed the moth off my little finger. I didn't have much more time than that - I was crazy late, soaked through and shivering in the cold.
In the office kitchen, I so badly wanted to tell someone about the little moth. But everyone was grumbling about the rain, and with me being new, I didn't want to come off as weird or anything.
So I'm telling you now. That's the story of the little moth that sat on my little finger and refused to budge even in the middle of a typhoon, as I later found out. Is there a moral? I don't know. I just treasure that memory of that tiny, scruffy moth braving the winds together with me, and I want to remember it.
