The blessing of a butterfly

A story to start your week

When he was just a little boy, First Brother was caught tossing a rope over the family clothesline in an attempt to string up Second Brother, just like they did in the Westerns he loved. Fortunately, our grandmother happened to glance out the window, and she put a stop to the hanging.

Years later, we were all teenagers, and I walked out of the living room, looked up the stairs, and saw Second Brother holding First Brother over his head. Of the three of us, Second Brother has always been the kindest, but he was preparing to throw First Brother down the stairs.

I do not know the offense, but because I never got along with First Brother, I would probably have agreed with the body toss, but there was no time for explanations, and I did what you instinctively do in such circumstances: I ran up the stairs and yelled, “Don’t!”

He didn’t.

I do not know how we three survived to adulthood — or how we’re even talking to one another, given how heinous we were to each another.

I am now the grandmother of 10-year old twins, and I can tell them as someone who knows that as much as they annoy one another, siblings are friends for life.

Because no one has yet been tossed down the stairs, I don’t get too worried at their spats, and besides, they far more often step up. Recently, the girl was sad about something, and as I sat on the bed comforting her, her brother came waltzing in making faces, trying to get a laugh out of her. When I later commented what a kind thing that was for him to do, he responded, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I love her. I just wanted to make her laugh.”

Ho-kay.

On Sunday, we went to Magic Wings, a low-key butterfly conservatory about 90 minutes from here. It is, well, a magical place, full of butterflies and cool bugs and small birds that skitter between your feet as you walk through a jungle of funky plants and swarms (flocks?) of butterflies flying free. You’re not supposed to touch them, but sometimes, the butterflies land on you, which feels like a blessing of some kind, like you’re special.

I’ve been taking the twins there since they were 4, and yesterday, their dad came, too.

Our favorite is a morpho (I think it’s a morpho). Their blue wings are iridescent and never has one landed on any of us.

As soon as we got there, a butterfly landed on my son’s shoulder, and then one landed on my granddaughter. Eventually, three butterflies landed on the boy at one time, but there at the start, he was feeling left out. So we sat on a bench and waited. We sat and sat and sat and nothing.

And then his sister came hurrying through the plants and held out a finger, on which rested the butterfly at the top of this post, a Lorquin’s Admiral, known as a friendly butterfly. She said nothing, but reached for her brother’s hand, and the friendly butterfly transferred over. They both stood and watched in awe as the butterfly slowly flapped its wings.

My God. I faked like I had to sneeze and let my eyes fill up. I was watching a blessing, floating down and landing on one child, who then, without talking — or probably even thinking — passed it on to her brother. It was a moment. It was a blessing I will remember even when I’m strapped into my dribble bib, waiting for crafts hour at the home.