Volatile

From the Latin volare, meaning “to fly.”  
In the 14th century, one appended the adjective  
strictly to birds and sometimes to their superior  
foil, souls. My volatile mother… By the end,  
of the 16th century, one used the word  
to describe anything so light and insubstantial  
it seemed on the verge of flying. That 
 
volatile leaf… Her volatile body... 
A few decades later, the word found itself  
attached like a burr to vapors and gasses,  
as if on a pyre, a body could fly after itself. 
What volatile smoke… It wasn’t until 
the 17th century that the word forgot 
it had wings and turned inward. It now meant 
“prone to sudden change.” When I was  
 
a child, my mother would be all chatty  
and effervescent one minute, and the next  
she’d have taken to her room, only coming 
downstairs to fix dinner. “Dad,” my son said 
yesterday, “you’re the sweetest man 
I know, but you can be volatile.” The bird, 
I explained, doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

Ralph James Savarese | Fractions
Contents | Mudlark No. 82 (2025)