Family & Friends

Butterflies for Sasha Since no one else had the time, the old man had come out to the field with the child who was now jumping about, fluttering in the distance among the flowers and long grass, the border of dark trees like a commentary on the futility of it all. The child was set on catching a butterfly, though on that late spring day there were no butterflies. The child did not seem to mind, leaping now here now there, the butterflies seemingly just out of reach. Then the old man saw something in the distance that seemed to float just above the long grass. He looked long and hard and for the life of him he could not distinguish the child from a butterfly. When the child returned, sans butterfly, all red and green, happily exhausted, pointing out to the field, asking if he could return tomorrow to try again to catch a butterfly, the old man smiled and silently took the child’s hand. Years later, when the child had become a man, he would return to the field and find his grandpa waiting for him. …