The butterfly

On my daily bike ride, I see butterflies. Usually one will fly around me as I'm doing my laps at the park, and usually it's a monarch.

Call me crazy (you won't be the first), but I think it's the same one every day.

I think about it a lot. I think about how it started out as a lowly creature that underwent a transformation and now is a being of beauty.

It reminds me of Deb.

I'm not saying she's the butterfly. If reincarnation is the way of the afterlife, she'd want to come back as a cat or a tiger. She might even want to come back as a bird so she can crap all over her first husband. But she never cared for insects.

But I can see her sending butterflies my way. She knows I'm big on omens.

Thursday was her birthday. I bought a birthday balloon and taped a little note to it. "Happy birthday. I miss you more than I can say. Love, Tim." I took it to the park and let it go. I watched it clear the trees and drift into the clouds until I couldn't see it anymore. Then I started my ride.

A couple of laps in, I saw the butterfly.

Happy Birthday!

Sweetie,

Happy birthday! I miss you more than I can say.

With all the love I possess,
Tim

p.s. The kitties say, "Meow."