Butterflies

rehashing this older post for writing101:day9

Dear Mom,

I needed to let you know, mama, that I am still thinking of you. If you were here I would let you braid my hair like you used to. I might let you brush it if you promised to be gentle. Maybe you could cook for me, and we could measure your “little bits”, so I could get it right, because, somehow, when I try, it just doesn’t taste the same.

You should see my girl mama. She looks a lot like us, she has our eyes. She reminds me of you even in her young age. She likes to dig in the dirt and pull out the flowers. She thinks she is weeding. And, yes mama, I am trying to teach her just like you taught me, but she doesn’t like to listen all the time.

I need to thank you mama, for all the love you gave me because now I know how to give it to her. I hope I give her enough to help her through her hard times just like yours helped me. I hope she can carry it with her and pass it onto her own family.

Remember these mama?

They were the butterflies you pulled off of the grill of uncles’ truck when he came for a visit. No mama, it isn’t gross, and don’t tell me to throw them away. They have kept well all these years between the glass and they remind me of you. You touched these wings , you preserved them, you found beauty in their death. I keep them beside my bed as a reminder of the lesson and I hope you have found beauty where you are too. xoxoxoxox