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	Butterflies
	Butterflies


I had the dream again. Mommy and I went stargazing. Out in the field. We lay on our backs on the damp grass. The crisp, night air brushes my face gently. It is peaceful. We look at the stars. A familiar scene Where we talk About whatever happened today At school for me. At work for her. At whereever we went. And as we lay On that damp grass In the cool evening Under the moon Under the stars I ask a question. About a word. I've heard it before. I am young. Don't get it. So, of course I ask. "Mommy?" I begin to ask. "Yes?" She smiles sweetly. "What is dying, Mommy?" I ask at last. It is a queer, somewhat uncomfortable question. "Well," Mommy begins. "One day, When a person grows very old, Or gets hurt very badly, That person dies." "What's that?" "I'm telling." "Oh." "Shh." I shh. "It happens to all of us. We turn into a butterfly And fly out of our body Which we leave on Earth And fly Away Up and up and up.... Until we touch the sky And go through the clouds And go to a place We call 'Heaven'. And our butterfly self Becomes a star Like those we see now. Look." I look. I ask, "Do we all become stars?" "Yes. Everyone does. Eventually. And we join all of our other stars Of other people who died And we gather And sing And dance And be happy Forever. We all become stars." She smiles. "So I become a star?" "Yeah." "Do you, Mommy?" "Yeah." "Will I get to see you?" Mommy pauses. She is hiding her face. "Y---Yes." "But you'll be a star..." "If you look up to the sky You might see my star And if you don't Remember this. I will always, Always Be with you. And--" Mommy turns around. "A-And..." She is stuttering. She is quiet. I am quiet. But I understand. Leaving me makes her sad. I don't want her to be sad. So I am quiet, too. And we both lie under the stars And look up into that sky As I try And find the butterflies. o 3e · Thu Sep 18, 2008 @ 08:11pm · 0 Comments


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