Butterfly's Last Flight
On my way home, after a brisk walk up Arroyo Road, I spotted a butterfly fluttering in the middle of the street. It was flapping its soft wings furiously against the pavement but seemed unable to fly. Clearly not a safe position for a delicate little creature to be in! I bent down on one knee and extended my hand, offering myself as a refuge in the only way I knew how. To my surprise, the butterfly crawled toward me eagerly and climbed right up and over my fingers to rest, for a timeless moment, in the cup of my palm. No cars were coming so I just stayed there, kneeling in the middle of the street with this butterfly in my hand. As she gently lifted and lowered her wings, as if catching her breath, I noticed her distinct coloring: shiny midnight black with wisps of blue iridescence, and two bright orange dots on the undersides of her wings. ...