A Billion Beautiful Butterflies
While I lay there motionless, a billion butterflies took off from my field, their two billion gentle wings cracked a windstorm into my painstakingly manicured landscape, and with them they steadily carried away the shattering pieces of my perfectly planned life. A billion beautiful butterflies, determined in their kind mercifulness to scatter unwelcome possibilities into a still arriving time. I didn’t see them. I didn’t hear them. I didn’t know of them; but I was poised to hate them, my unrelenting child already futilely chasing after them with a swatter. Parting through the gusts of wind he effortlessly emerged to begin his ascent towards me. He climbed up the wrought iron patio columns like peter pan himself and glided right thru our window on rays of sunshine which when he stepped upon them, turned to copper but for a millisecond. I didn’t know if you noticed him or if it could be that you were the one who invited him. Perhaps it was the butterflies that alerted him or maybe he called the butterflies himself, told them to make a home in my field and get ready for this day of flight. Either way, his business was with me. He rounded our bed and kneeled down beside me to bear vigil. But I paid him no mind. I ignored him completely.