Just a Boy Toy

My butterfly

My father never got enervated of betokening me as his favorite flower. He used to say I am his Rose the most exquisite flower of the world also known as the queen of gardens. This flower symbolizes grace gratitude admiration joy enthusiasm friendship love innocence purity. He used to say the rose is a complete flower and so am I. He always used to say I am his beautiful butterfly that bloomed his life-like a flower. We were not just father and son he always tried to be my best friend.  Our friendship is special like the flower that bloom or when a butterfly emerges from within its cocoon. He used to say I remind him of the butterfly. Loving free bright and colorful for the world to see. We shared sunshine and rainbow sometimes the rain and the wind together. We stayed together through everything holding hands together not letting go of each other in the toughest times of life.

I still remember that day perfectly when I first met my love. I was three years old kid. Hopping like a grasshopper on my feet playfully my father and I were advancing towards the big mansion. My father was striving to control my jumping movements so I won't skid and fall on stones. The big entrance gate of the ostentatious swanky mansion got opened by guards and we proceeded inside. The door got opened by servants and we entered inside. It felt more like a hyperbolic magniloquent remark but my eyes practically protrude out with the interior of the mansion. It was tremendously huge with luxurious furniture brands, chandeliers, and much more expensive embellishing stuff. My father made me sit in the corner and got to do something. I was scrutinizing everything out like any inquisitive kid but only until I saw a lady coming down with a baby in her arms. With every step, she took climbing the stairs down my smile become more magnanimous. Have you ever seen an angel in a turquoise blue Toteme Espera tank dress? If we think about the stereotypical description of an angel she was far distinctive from it. According to the hackneyed portrayal of an angel is a spiritual being superior to humans in power and intelligence especially. An angel is the messenger of god characterized as having a human form with wings. But she is unorthodox from any descriptive angel people talk about. She didn't had any luminosity or wings but her glow and wings were her smiles. She didn't need a white dress to look like an angel because she indeed is an angel. My angel!! Not only with her appearance but with her heart too.

"You are our driver's son, right?" The lady asked in her beautiful ethereal voice as she sat on the couch next to me. But if I think about that day properly either I was hypnotized by the beauty of my angel or the cute little baby angel in her arms. I was literally crumbling to touch the delicate coruscating pale cheeks of the baby in her arms but since my father has warned me not to touch anything or anyone in the mansion in advance I restrained my small little hands.

"Look like you want to caress the baby. Don't you?" The lady asked tousling my hair. I desperately nodded and she gave me the baby angel in my arms but her hands never left us making sure I unknowingly don't harm the baby and she was right I was a kid too. The baby giggled flapping his hands and legs like a dolphin joyously in the air so the probability of me tripping him down on the floor was high so she took the baby in her lap and I stirred closer to look at the baby considerably. My smile stretched to my ears when the baby wrapped his tiny hands around my little thumb. 

I leaned to the unadulterated touch of my angel when she stroked my hair warmly smiling. For a child who never had a maternal touch in his whole life, it felt so safe that I can't articulate it in words. I know I have not spent gazillion years or too much of my life but whatever time I have spent in this enigmatic planet called earth I comprehended two types of the mother. The one who takes a child as a barrier in their dreams like babies will asphyxiate their long-cherished wishes and the other for whom their baby is the most valuable part of life. Like their babies help them to breathe, like the sweet fragrance of a baby become one of the best smells in the whole world. Like the child is the most delicate gift this world has given her. But I don't found any of these two types of women wrong everybody has their way of feeling and comprehending things.