Butterfly

"No one cares how much you know, until they know how much you care."

Janie stroked the velvet wings of her giant stuffed butterfly that her mother bought for her. The purple and pink wings were covered in glitter; she happily hugged the soft toy against her chest.

“Thank you, mommy,” six-year-old Janie said. The sterility of the hospital room didn’t take away from Janie’s iridescent young beauty. The sunlight streaming into the room shone off her soft brown hair. Her large blue eyes glowed with joy as she made the butterfly flap its wings and soar through the air.

Janie’s mother kissed her on the head. “You’re welcome sweetie,” she said as she headed towards the sofa bed set up next to her daughter’s. Every day since her daughter had come to the hospital with a heart defect, her mother Marion had come straight from work to see her. Although she’d be exhausted from dealing with children in her third grade class, she never failed to come to her daughter’s side. She’d been coming every day for three months, and she’d come until they found a heart donor for her.

Marion collapsed on the small bed with fatigue. She took twenty math tests out of her purse and instigated to correct them. Janie stared at the butterfly with utter awe, admiring the delicate wings and the sturdy body.

“I wish I were a butterfly,” she said to no one in particular. She caressed the tiny wire antennas.

Marion stopped what she was doing and smiled at Janie. “Why would you want to be a butterfly?”

“If I were a butterfly, I’d travel all over the world, and meet all sorts of people. I’d stop and rest on a flower and everyone would stop and say: ‘Oh, what a beautiful butterfly’.” Janie moved the toy up and down, making the wings move. She then said more quietly: “I’d be free, and I’d be the most beautiful butterfly that anyone had ever seen.” She lay back against her pillows and sighed.

Marion’s eyes filled up with tears. She knew her daughter would never be as free as she dreamed of. Her illness would make her become weaker and weaker, and even with a transplant she may never be as active as other children. Marion wiped away a tear clandestinely; making sure Janie didn’t see how upset she was.

“Well,” Marion said keeping her head down and her eyes on the papers that were blurring her eyes. “Maybe someday you will be free. Maybe someday you can travel around the world without a worry, and people will admire how beautiful you are.” Marion looked up, and saw her daughter laying peacefully, her eyes closed and a soft smile gracing her lips.

Marion’s heart sank into her stomach. She stood up as if something had lifted her and walked to Janie’s bedside. She placed her hand on the girl’s cheek. It was still glowing red with warmth. She took the butterfly and placed Janie’s arms around it, as if she were embracing it. Marion put her hand over her mouth and began to sob.

A cool wind blew into the open window. Marion turned around to see a butterfly sitting gracefully on the windowsill. Its pink and purple wings moved elegantly up and down, as if it tried to calm the destruction and pain in the world. Marion felt her heart lift a bit, and turned around to look at her daughter, still lying peacefully in the barren hospital bed. She once again gazed at the butterfly. It lifted its beautiful wings up heavenward and flew towards the sky, and Marion knew that Janie was finally free.