Butterflies. She wanted to see the butterflies. And since my girl doesn’t ask for much, off to see the butterflies we went, to visit the grand exhibit at the Safari Park nearby.
Once a year, thousands of butterflies are raised in a beautiful, flower filled enclosure. Stepping into that world was magical, butterflies flitting about us, twirling and swirling, lighting on the fauna and people who had come to admire them.
Her happy squeals and jubilant smiles filled my heart as one after another, butterflies of all colors and shapes and sizes flew by. When one special Blue Morpho landed on her arm, she was beside herself with excitement. He stayed with her for almost an hour. We called him her buddy.
He brought with him more friends. Each time the surprise and delight a new colorful friend alighting on her ever so delicately brought a wave of wonder.
It was magical.
Perhaps the magic felt even more pure because the past few weeks have had more than their usual amount of bone pain, bleeding bumps, fatigue, even some heart palpitations thrown in for good measure. Maybe because we are so used to some amount of body issues we don’t get too excited over these things, but they are still there. Maybe it’s because her psych testing came back low, lower than I care to look at, even though I know these tests can’t possibly measure the magnificent gifts and talents of my special girl.
What I do know is this: butterflies are signs of transformation, and transformation can mean a lot of things. Mostly for me, it is a sign to change my thoughts, look at things differently, and watch the world unfold in a new and brighter, more colorful way.
There we were, amidst the throngs of iridescent beauties, laughing and giggling, entranced by the wonder of it all. Transformed.
Thank you, little lady, for leading us there.