My heart stops, skips a beat, something.
Earlier today, I looked outside my window and saw these two beautiful, yellow butterflies traveling across my backyard. They circled each other in graceful motion as they went this way and that. Where one went, the other one followed. Even though they seemed to be circling around the garden again and again, they seemed to know where they were going.
And then, as if it were planned, they flew in opposite directions. One went this way as the other one went another way. They separated. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened.
Hours passed and now I am sitting here again. I’m looking outside the same window and spot this little butterfly fly around the same area. It came back. But there is only one, and it flies aimlessly and confused. It doesn’t fly gracefully anymore but full of panic and distress. It darts this way and that, the other butterfly nowhere to be seen.
I watch it as it flies faster and faster, until it has to stop and rest. Minutes go by and still it’s searching. It’s searching for something; the other butterfly is still nowhere to be found. My heart falls heavy for this animal, who seems to lost what it regretted letting go of.
More time goes by and I’m still watching this little butterfly flutter its wings in every direction it can. Sharp turns here, avoiding the wall there, it travels across this great area to find what was missing, what it yearned.
Then suddenly, another butterfly comes from across the street. They tangle together, flying in circle around on another in joy. They fly gracefully this way and that. It feels whole again.