Already it is July,
The wind is blowing too strong to fly.
Don’t you think of leaving now!
Come home, to my warm home,
You can settle or wander on my shoes or wall,
We will watch rainbow from my window.
I’ll not let anything hurt your soft wings,
Daddy will get fresh nectar for you.
Don’t fly away!
Some days I doodle and get into the shoes of a six-year old who thinks simple with no twisted rhyming words in the end of every sentence.
I have faded memories from my childhood when I used to chase butterflies for hours in the playground. I always wished if they could live with me in our home, sit next to me, watch me read books and sing a song.
After several unsuccessful attempts to get a butterfly, the wild child got an evil idea of capturing them inside glass bottles. And I did. I captured one and brought it home. I was so excited, feeling top of the world.
“Maa, maa…maa… See what I have got inside this jar!”
She wasn’t as excited as I was. I was expecting a bravery pat on my back. But, I got frown brows followed by, “Come with me! You see this water tank your father got yesterday to install on the rooftop? You go, get inside and let me lock you from outside.”
“No, are you crazy? Why would you do that to your own child? It will be so dark inside and if you lock me, I will find it difficult to breathe air. I will probably die. No, I’m not obeying you, Maa.”
“If you feel so, how can you close this little beautiful butterfly inside this jar? What kind of monster does that? Let it be in the garden where it belongs, where it is happy. Why are you separating this little thing from its family? How would you feel if someone does that to you?”
Mother’s words hit me inside. I cried for hurting the butterfly. I ran and ran long to the garden and let it fly away.