Regrettably, I don’t remember which friend told me that that was what her toddler called a butterfly. Toddlers have a way of naming things appropriately, don’t they? Thank God for the way their minds work.
As I write, there is a celebration taking place for the life of my friend Jeannette, whose soul took flight this past Sunday evening. We all have our “things.” Things we have a special affinity for. Hers was butterflies.
I had a couple of pieces of butterfly jewelry, and she always admired them. “I collect butterflies, you know,” she would say. I did know, and when I would see beautiful butterflies, I would think of her. I guess I always will. What a lovely legacy.
The average life span of a butterfly is twenty to forty days. Some live only three or four days; some live much longer. Carl Sagan said, “We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.”
Our “Forever” could be short; it could be long. We don’t know. So, for Today, let’s flutter with all our might under the azure autumn sky in honor of our friend Jeannette.
Can you hear it? It’s barely there. The faint sound of wings. Is it a butterfly . . . or maybe an angel?
Flutter . . . flutter . . . . ‘Bye, now.