Love: Wong

Pretty butterfly

In the Mountain Temple

Night in the temple

From the top of the mountain.

I can raise my hand,

Caress the stars,

But I dare not speak

Out loud.

I'm afraid I'll frighten

The inhabitants of heaven. (Li Bai)

🦋

Li had heard a childish laugh, but it was only his mind playing tricks on him, mischievous memories of times when his skeleton wouldn't sit still, laughter provoked by the company of his beautiful butterfly. A child who robbed him of his solitude, giving him countless feelings in return that took his mind off things, his art increasingly expressive with unusual features from his youth - the war made him a bitter man, because with its arrival and its macabre performances, Li didn't know if the blood of freedom was worthy of him, his sleepless nights with a guilty conscience gave him fatigue, dark circles under his eyes and depression. He found his date one night walking the streets looking for a diversion, it was burgundy, made him laugh himself silly, gave him whole nights and confused days, with a sweet and addictive taste. He allowed himself to be deluded by its temporary comfort, already completely unfortunate in life.

It was during one of his walks through the lavender garden that he saw children coming home from school. Laughing, energetic, they matched that garden, they were colorful and free butterflies, ignorance gave them that nature which had been stolen from them when they came of age and had to go to war to fight for their country.

He found himself truly happy, as he hadn't been for a long time. The answer came to him, making him want to be a father. His wife had left him, frustrated by the difference in their literacy levels, and after that he hadn't been able to fall in love again, not with women, but with canvases. The canvases served as an escape because they were his inner reflection, which he couldn't understand but found fascinating. His hands danced strokes and wrote poetry, he realized then that he needed someone to fill his home, to give him the joy he saw in the homes of his friends who had families, he was in love with the happiness he saw in children's faces, he wanted to be a father.

He had decided not because he was ready, but because he felt he would take on the responsibility he was looking for. He wasn't naive enough to think it would be an easy task, but he felt it would be worth it. He searched through two orphanages when he arrived at one where one of the sisters in charge had recognized him and told his story to the children, who were fascinated. Li smiled, wondering if in his childhood he had also heard stories like his, or if an adult had ever put himself in his place as he was doing at that moment, envying his innocent spirit, devoid of anguish. It was then that a child, one who was on the edge of the fourth row of chairs in front of him, had a melancholy countenance, her expression was slight, but unlike the others she didn't seem fascinated by the story, or at least excited like the other children, she just stood there, as if existing was strange.

Li approached her sister to find out about the child with the enigmatic face who had ended up there; she said she was a girl whose parents had been murdered over debts, who had been living on the streets until two weeks ago when a policeman took her into his care, she was only five years old and didn't answer to her given name. She was like an abandoned cat, she didn't trust anyone and would rather be alone than depend on help. God alone knew what she had lived through out in the open. Li Bai made four more visits, all of them long and spent most of the time talking to the girl, until he finally decided to adopt her. When he saw his baptismal name, he wondered why he rejected it so much. When he came of age, he also changed his name to something that would describe him better; sometimes you don't identify yourself, it's as if you don't belong. Raising the child wasn't difficult, she was quiet, calm and seemed to enjoy watching him paint his pictures, read his poems, didn't complain about school, but it still felt like her happiness had been taken away from her. The process of giving her the virtues she deserved from birth was long and slow. He never left her alone, always trying to give her back her joy. Little by little, he saw her smiles, her livelier words, her more colorful spirit; she was blossoming from her cocoon and along with her new life, Li gave her a new name. One that would give her happiness and beauty, and she was named Ada.

It had been fifteen years since that time, now alone, in his forties, Li Bai was once again tied to his burgundy, but now his home and his heart were filled with memories of a child who had been more than his daughter, she had been his redemption, his chance to correct his mistakes, to relive, to feel what he believed had been taken in the war, he knew then that his butterfly was now flying away, he knew its address at least from all the letters he received once a month. His eyes rested on the letters and he knew that his little girl had inherited his courage, perhaps she wouldn't be as terrified as he was now that she had discovered she had cancer, looking around and contemplating the happy moments gave him strength. He hadn't told his daughter anything, it was his choice now, not that he had really made up his mind, but the feeling of having done everything he could and everything he knew, passing on his literary, artistic and martial knowledge, leaving his legacy both in his paintings and with the girl, he only had one last thing to do. He sat down on one of the mountains he liked to go to in his spare time - of which there were many - and there he began to write what turned out to be his last letter;

"Hello, my darling butterfly.

Today I dreamt that you were flying through the lavender garden, you landed on my shoulder while I was drawing a mountain.  You then transformed into a human in a crimson dress with a picture of a butterfly on it, that color suits you. From the photo you sent me, you look very tired, are you sleeping properly? Don't let me worry you, but if you're going to make me move my skeleton, you should give me grandchildren soon - you must be wrinkling your brow now. I find myself worrying about you every day, but I know you know how to fend for yourself, and that reminds me of my first impression of you. A street cat who didn't trust anyone, your claws exposed and your gaze suspicious, you were afraid of the world, it frightened you, but then you decided to trust me, and today I see that you face it with fervor, I can only say that I feel happy that our destinies have crossed and that you keep everything I've taught you, don't worry about me, I still do my paintings and climb mountains, I'm on one right now. I want to do better (laughs).

I don't want you to feel the emptiness that I felt, you don't have to pretend to be strong, because you're not the scaredy-cat anymore. Don't let life steal your smile, darling. I'll always be here if you need me, just as I always have and it's okay to tell me that yes, you're scared, or that you don't know what to do, yeah, I recognized the same marks I had when I came back from the war. You're much more than you think you are. Take care, my beautiful butterfly.

Love, Li Bai Wong."