The ground sat waiting,
Aching to receive what was promised.
The sun shone and the clouds parted their hands away.
A blue woman stood by,
With her hair shining the colors of creation in the sun.
But today, she was clad in a different color,
The color of a heart broken by knowing the end is near.
She looked down at the ground, and saw its sad smile.
She looked at the stone that bore her name,
And how somber it was.
Kneeling down, she felt the stone’s cold touch.
It was the touch of remembrance and stories to be told.
She got up, and saw everyone leaving.
As the last person left, she approached the box.
Inside was its precious cargo,
A package too precious to be delivered without the proper care.
Its doors were closed, a garden lay atop of it.
The sky began to darken, as its mourners seemed to have just arrived.
Tiny droplets fell from Heaven,
The tears of the angels who knew what time it was.
The blue woman gathered her thoughts, she closed her eyes.
She approached the orange one’s box, caressing its mahogany.
She can still remember the day:
The blue woman sat at the table, sharp objects and gloves all around her.
The man in the coat came in to tell her.
She wept, knowing that what she could give to the world, she could never have.
She looked down at the box, still holding her hand on the polished wood.
The clouds began their symphony of tears as drops of rain fell,
Coating all who were under their eyes.
She walked through the door of clammering children,
Sights and sounds enveloping her in a sensation of overwhelming bliss.
The Headmaster came to her,
Prepared to deliver her own special package.
She was not one to stand out,
Save for her purple butterfly backpack.
The blue one smiled, and held out her hand.
“Come with me”, said her eyes, “And I’ll show you a home you can go to”.
She felt her own eyes begin to tear.
Water from the dams behind her eyes leaked,
And a crack was in her voice.
An orange blur rushed through the home,
Laughing and carrying on.
She threw her purple butterfly backpack at the ground, and rushed to open arms.
The evening was full of tickles and snacks,
Of reading stories and laughing about the day.
Bedtime was filled with sweet dreams,
And lullabies sung under the stars.
The blue woman felt her knees become weak,
And she fell down to the ground,
Who frowned in humble sorrow for her.
The orange played in the yard, with the blue woman watching.
Suddenly, she fell. Her world went white, and her legs refused to run.
The blue woman rushed to her side, crying and begging for her to awaken.
The man in the coat answered question after question,
Each one more terrible and dreadful than the last.
Treatments would start soon,
Hair would be lost,
Hope would dwindle.
The blue woman stopped and felt a pain in her chest as she looked at the box,
And back down at the open ground.
She knew that which she lost.
She knew the fight that had been fought.
And, somehow, she knew that her precious gift
Was still precious indeed.
At the park, the two of them sat where she used to play.
The bench was a nice change from the wheelchair.
The two watched the children play in the distance,
And the purple butterflies fly and dance on the wind.
“Will I be okay?” the orange one asked.
“Of course you will,” said the blue one, tears in her eyes,
“You’ll feel better than you’ve ever felt.”
She felt her hand on the stone once more,
And ran her fingers on the garden on the box.
She took a breath, and let the wind out from her lungs.
As she felt her hands tremble, she looked around her.
No one was there but her, and her special gift.
She looked at the sky, and saw the grey clouds begin to clear.
The grass swayed back and forth, left and right.
Then, she caught a glimpse of the light.
Above her head from where the tears came, she saw Heaven open.
A part in the clouds.
She looked down from the light back onto the stone,
And behold, it was the one thing she didn’t expect to see.
A purple butterfly.
She walked slowly up to it,
Where it slowly, gently flapped its delicate wings.
She picked it up on the tip of her finger,
And felt joy flow through her body.
Like hot chocolate on a cold winter day
Was the joy that spread through her veins.
She felt her body shake,
But her heart remained beating.
She lifted the butterfly up,
And set her free.
She flew higher and higher, towards the light of the sky,
Carried on the wings of the wind,
On the wings of angels.
She looked back at the hole in the ground,
And saw the stone, how it didn’t look so cold anymore.
She knew it was time to say goodbye.
As she began her walk back towards the car, she looked back one more time.
To that little box on the hill.
She saw the keepers come to deliver it to its destination,
To deliver it from this realm to the next.
At her house, she looked around.
No more tickling, no more nighttime reading,
No more sugar cookies at Christmas.
But there would be plenty of peace, plenty of hope, and plenty of joy.
The cups may not hold messy-made chocolate milk anymore,
But her cup would overflow with peace,
Knowing the orange one made it home,
That she was safely delivered.
Outside her window,
Where the breeze was so gentle and fine,
A purple butterfly hovered in the air,
It matched one of the color strands of the blue woman’s hair.
After hovering for a few moments, as if to say its peace,
It leaves and awaits for its own special gift to be delivered.
