Butterflies Are Not Free

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tall Cover No Text_edited.jpg

Obby's was one of many butterflies, all with the same manner of names and dates. She faced her father who with moist eyes slowly approached. She pushed herself into his immense mass.

After a while she looked up into his penitent face.

After another while he spoke, hesitantly. “I was wondering if maybe this was a good time for something else.”

She stared back, feeling much younger, like the smaller child she had forgotten once was her.

“You don’t have to, but I was wondering if this was a good time to, you know, let her rest. You can scatter her here. We can help. We can be quiet. We can pray. We can sing. We can even dance and laugh. Nobody but we all has to know. We can come back whenever you want.”

He waited.

Page breaks in this preview do not coincide with the pagination of the published book

Obby's was one of many butter- flies, all with the same manner of names and dates. She faced her father who with moist eyes slowly approached. She pushed herself into his immense mass.

After a while she looked up into his penitent face.

After another while he spoke, hesitantly. “I was wondering if maybe this was a good time for something else.”

She stared back, feeling much younger, like the smaller child she had forgotten once was her.

“You don’t have to, but I was wondering if this was a good time to, you know, let her rest. You can scatter her here. We can help. We can be quiet. We can pray. We can sing. We can even dance and laugh. Nobody but we all has to know. We can come back whenever you want.”

He waited.