Butterflies and Plastic Dump Trucks
She lived in a one bedroom, circular house with a roof that came to one central point. It was made of light wood and had long, rectangular windows that curved with the walls. She resided in a very sunny town, and she kept the curtains open all day to let the sun shine through the skylights and windows. The light wood interior made for an inviting living space that she infrequently relaxed in. Her job, a medical assistant at a popular doctor’s office across town, kept her out of the house most days. On her days off she visited new eating spots with friends, ran errands, hiked and walked, or practiced with her band.
As spring began, mosquitoes, beetles, and flies of different kinds appeared in her house. One day, she came home to drop off her guitar and as she opened the white wooden door, a butterfly flew into the bright living room. It fluttered sporadically in front of the windows. She attempted to guide it towards the open door, but every time she got near, the butterfly would fly away. Finally, she gave up and sat down on her thrifted cream couch to watch the creature. As if responding to the stranger’s movements, the butterfly too slowed down and perched on the windowsill.
The details of its wings, pale yellow with black stripes of varying lengths, came into full view. She studied the butterfly, growing in deeper amazement the longer she looked at its patterns and textures. She knew she had a coffee date with a friend, but observing the butterfly was more enthralling. She felt silly for wanting to watch it because the task was so simple, so childlike, but she reasoned that the opportunity of having a butterfly in her house was rare. So she texted her friend saying she couldn’t make it to coffee because she got called into work. For the next hour, she pondered where that butterfly flew from and where it was going once it was free, she marveled at the dust-like particles that made up its wings, and she smirked while comparing the complexities of the butterfly’s life to hers.
Afterward, she kept the butterfly encounter a secret mostly because she deemed it irrelevant to bring up in conversation. However, on her commute to work the next day, she noticed the kids park, off to the right of the main intersection, for the first time. She smiled at the kids chasing each other up the slides and carefully pouring sand into their plastic dump trucks. The rest of that week, she found herself anticipating the 5-second window to pass by the park. It was as if acknowledging the kids’ world gave her a break from the demanding and mundane aspects of hers. At the end of that week, she felt slightly more relaxed, and considered acquiring more wonder in her world a reality.
Merriam Webster defines wonder, the noun, as: “the quality of exciting amazed admiration.” As I am around young kids many days of the week, I think my experiences with them floating around my subconscious largely influenced the theme of this story. However, I cannot discount the value they have shown me in appreciating small things. Their delight in catching a caterpillar or watching the wind rustle through the trees is truly contagious.
