11.00 am this morning, the butterfly flapped furiously with hs wings, beautiful and gorgeous in different ways. The healhy wing, vibrant and full of colour, a reminder of the wondour we come to feel whenever we see a butterfly. The other, crippled and warped; like plastic when its gone too close to the fire.
Tap-tap-tap he went against the clear pane of my window.
Tap-tap-tap, waking me from my slumber.
I checked his tray. The flowers remained untouched, and so was the sugary solution I had left for him.
Tap-tap-tap he went, more furiously this time.
I knew then what I had to do. What I had thought was best for it; that it needed to live it's full three weeks as a butterfly was inconsequential. It wasn't what the butterfly wanted. It was what I did, and when I thought about it, it was the caterpillar who had worked so hard for this moment, not me, and therefore it should be he who decided ultimatley on how he wanted to live his life. As short, or long as it would be.
"Okay little guy" I cooed, half resigned and half hopeful as I placed my hand near him on the windowsill. "We're gonna be oustide soon enough."
I know I have a way with small animals, but this time it was as if the butterfly actually understood the meaning of my words. He ceased his furious flapping almost immediately and crawled up to the tips of my fingers, antannae trembling with excitement, and we made our way Outside.
The sun was hot today, and there was hardly a single cloud in the sky, but not unbearbly so. Perfect weather as it would happen, for butterflies to fly. They need the heat to warm their muscles. Looking at the poor guy, trembling with excitement, proboscis unfurling at the smells of flowers I almost felt sorry. The state of his wing meant that there was about less than 1% chance of him surviving in the wild.
But then again I always try to be positie when I can and besides, I know how important it is for a caretaker to demonstrate positivity, even in the face of hopelessness. And so, I brought the butterfly close to my lips and whispered.
"Go on then, flap your wings." The butterfly only circled my palm, uncertainly.
"Youve got nothing to loose," I said, as reassuringly as I could. "You will never know if you don't try."
And so, he began flapping his wings. Slowly at first, raising them and lowering them. The crippled wing seemed to be a hinderance but he did it anyway. The Sun, warm as He was today must have lent the butterfly some strength because soon enough he was flapping them faster. And Faster. And all of a sudden, he was off! Up into the air.
Admitedly the moment of his departure was not as graceful as one might expect. But that only made it more glorious. His flight was clumsy, low, he lost altitude like a falling feather and he tended to dip unexpectedly, but the fact remained that he was doing it. He was flying. And it was all that mattered.
I smiled as he crashed into one of the low growing flowers in my garden. I suppose sometimes, all someone needed for him to get over his own shortcomings and disabilities was for someone else to believe, and I mean truly believe in him.
And that, my friends, is the very valuable lesson I learnt from this entire episode that I wish to share with you.
I watch the butterfly alight clumsily off a white flower, proceeding to crash into a pink one, and I said, "Good luck...my Beautiful Butterfly," and wiped of a little tear.
PEACE OUT
