40 years have past and it was then when i was on m
40 years have past and it was then when i was on my way to the grad 84 reunion i remembered the story of the butterfly
The crisp autumn air nipped at my nose as I drove towards the old school, a tangle of bittersweet memories stirring in my heart. Forty years. Forty years since graduation, and now, here I was, heading back to the hallowed halls of Elmwood High for our class reunion.
As I parked the car, I noticed a familiar butterfly, its wings a vibrant blue, flitting around the overgrown rose bushes bordering the school grounds. A sudden rush of childhood memories flooded my mind, taking me back to a time when the world was a vast and magical place, teeming with secrets and wonder.
It all started with a whispering willow tree that stood at the edge of the playground. Legend had it that the willow held the spirit of a young girl named Elara, who had been cursed by a jealous witch. Elara, the tale went, had been a gifted artist, able to paint the very essence of nature onto her canvases. But the witch, envious of her talent, had transformed her into a butterfly, forever trapped within the willow’s branches.
As children, we would gather around the willow, whispering our dreams and secrets to Elara, hoping she would hear us, hoping she would grant us a glimpse of her magic. And one day, I did.
It was a day much like today, crisp and autumnal. I sat beneath the willow, lost in a daydream, when I felt a flutter on my hand. A butterfly, with wings the color of sapphire, landed gently on my palm. Its eyes, impossibly large and filled with sorrow, seemed to look into my soul. Then, in a whisper that felt like the rustling of leaves, it spoke.
“The witch’s curse,” it said, “can only be broken by a heart that sees beauty in the world, even in its most fragile form.”
The butterfly then flew towards the playground, alighting on the swings, its wings brushing against a girl swinging high in the air. The girl stopped, her eyes wide with wonder, and for a moment, she seemed to see the butterfly not as a creature, but as a symbol of hope and magic.
The encounter, fleeting as it was, left an indelible mark on me. I began to see the world through different eyes, appreciating the beauty in the smallest things, the delicate bloom of a wildflower, the shimmer of sunlight on a raindrop. It was as if the butterfly, with its whisper, had opened a door to a world of wonder, reminding me that magic exists, even in the ordinary.
Standing now, forty years later, before the old school, I saw that the willow tree was still there, its branches swaying gently in the wind. I didn’t know if Elara was still trapped within its branches, or if she had finally been freed, but the memory of her story, and the butterfly’s message, remained vivid in my heart.
The butterfly I saw today, with its vibrant blue wings, felt like a sign. A reminder that magic is all around us, hidden in the ordinary, waiting to be discovered. It was a reminder that even after forty years, the world was still filled with wonder, waiting for those who had the courage to look for it.
As I walked towards the school, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, but this time, it wasn’t just tinged with sadness. It was also laced with hope, with a sense of wonder that, thanks to the butterfly’s whisper, I had never lost. The reunion was going to be more than just a gathering of old classmates; it was going to be a chance to share stories, to rekindle friendships, and perhaps, to rediscover the magic that had once filled our lives. After all, as the butterfly had taught me, the world is still filled with beauty, waiting for those who have the heart to see it.
