Do you ever notice how butterflies appear in the oddest of places? Today, for example, at the pool, a butterfly danced for a short while above the water's basketball hoop as boys vied for the title of best shooter. It's wings fluttered furiously before flying off toward the bushes to the west. I admired it's gracefulness in spite of the chaos below its flightpath. Whenever I see a butterfly I think of my brother. He died nine years ago next month.
I can't remember where I heard the following (from a person, movie, book, magazine, strange attempt at an inspirational quote...) : butterflies are representative of the spirits of those we once loved, but have now passed. Please don't mistake me as someone who buys into everything she is fed, although I am admittedly naive at times. I do not believe this in the literal sense. I whole-heartedly believe that my brother is walking among angels and is presently in awe of God's glory, in heaven. Nevertheless, whenever a butterfly hurries past me, the part of my heart that still aches during moments when I'm reminded of his absence causes my imagination to entertain the idea of truth behind the butterfly theory, just for a moment.