Liv’s Butterfly Blessing
Liv gathered a shallow bowl of sunshine yellow paint and a small brush to do some detail work on the front door, which she had already primed and covered with a first coat.
The entry space was illuminated by the tilt of a planet and light from a distant star. As she stood, paint in one hand, brush in the other, a large monarch, six inches across, floated around her and then landed on the side of her back and rested there. “You found me!” she said. “Welcome. . . . You’re safe here.” Away the creature fluttered for a few circles in the open air and then returned, this time landing in the center of Liv’s back. Again she spoke a welcome, a promise. Again the butterfly lingered, then flew off only to return a third time, this time landing on the hip of her denim skirt, opening and closing its wings for Liv to see. From her bird’s eye view, Liv took in the vibrant patterns of its wings, its black and white body, nimble and solid. An exchange was in play, but what could Liv give in return? Her hands, still holding the paint and brush, were raised in surrender.
Liv was found by beauty, by the laws of attraction, by sensory magnetism, and by the tilt of a planet and light from a distant star. Was the winged creature drawn by the yellow of the door? the pastels in her clothing? the bright space? all three? or something else all together?