Truth

Silver Dollars and Butterfly Wings {Short Story}

My parents named me Life because they liked the sound of it. That's what they told me, at least, and I figured something that horrible couldn't be a lie. It wasn't because they both sat down one day, thinking of the name for their future baby, and decided Life was the most beautiful thing in the world, so they just had to pick it. They didn't come face to face with death and find the true meaning of living. Apparently, it only took them a few minutes to choose it.

It sounded pretty.

I guess my name's beside the point, but still, it gives you a little insight regarding what goes on in my parents' heads. They weren't creative or helpful or even around most of the time. They worked for a coin museum just outside of town, which brings me to one point of the story. Every year for my birthday, I got one, shiny silver dollar.

It wasn't much, but according to them it would eventually add up, which I guess is true. When I'm sixty I'll have enough money to buy a really raggedy arm chair.

I should also add that I love the park, because that's where I found a little butterfly which I thought was alive at first, until I realized it wasn't. I lived right in town, and on the corner of the street there's an old bank I was heading towards to cash in my silver dollars. Dad had told me to wait, but I didn't listen. So I went down the shaded sidewalk and stopped at my park for a while first. I had always called it my park, because, to me, it was mine.

Anyways, I sat down on a swing and plopped the Walmart bag full of dollars onto the sandy mulch and I kicked off and swung and swung until I got as high as I could go. I reached out and tried to touch the tree branch above me, and when it finally slipped across my fingers, well, that's when I saw a little yellow spot in the fountain. So I jumped.  Mom and Dad never liked that part of the story; said it wasn't safe to jump like that. I was surprised- it didn't seem like anything was wrong with trying to fly. They just shook their heads.

Anyhow, I ran over to it and looked at it and realized it was a butterfly. I waited for it to flutter away, because everything seems to scare them. I'd be scared, too, if I was so fragile. It didn't, though, so I sat on the fake wooden bench and stared at it for a little while. Then I got up and walked back to the fountain and swirled the water, feeling bad for the butterfly. I thought that maybe it was sleeping, but then I remembered that butterflies never sleep in the open. I smiled. Dad would be proud that I remembered that from school.

So, feeling guilty and with my eyes half closed as I cringed away, I gently poked the yellow butterfly. I slowly opened my eyes. It hadn't moved. I moved closer to it. I nodded. The legs were crossed underneath it- that meant it was dead. It felt weird to be named Life and see something dead. It felt weirder that I would die someday, and that there would be a funeral for Life. I looked at the small, bright thing and realized that even things that could fly can still die.

I cupped the little butterfly in my hands and brought some water with it as I took it softly out of the little fountain that it died in. Even though it was little and the fountain was little and this park was little and the town was little, it still died in a big world, a world that wouldn't care if it died, even if it could fly and they couldn't. I thought that was unfair. More people would be sad about me than this butterfly, I knew. It had the better life, though.

I set the butterfly carefully down on the gray bricks surrounding the fountain, and looked around until I found a leaf that had fallen off a tree. I eventually found a big, red-green one and brought it over to the side of the fountain to put the butterfly on it. It was like a funeral procession. I ran over to the swing set and grabbed the plastic bag of silver dollars, then came over and quietly picked up the leaf. I decided the bank could wait. I knew just the place to go, but first I had to go home.

You see, as I ran(sort of, anyway; I had to keep the butterfly safe)back home, I realized that I didn't really want to cash in my silver dollars, but I didn't really want to save them and buy a moldy arm chair when I turned sixty. And I wanted this butterfly to fly again. Even if it was dead, it deserved to be better than the people who couldn't fly and still didn't care, because I did care about that little butterfly, even if it didn't care about me.

It didn't take long to reach my little suburban house, and I ran right around it to the back door, because Mom and Dad were at work and they kept the front door locked. I set down the bag of silver dollars to open the door, and then I ran in through the hallway and went right into my room. I walked to my tall dresser and grabbed my old, rainbow-colored kite. I tore a page out of my notebook and took a pen with me. Then I ran back out of the house, making sure to grab my bag of silver dollars on the way out.

Everyone was always surprised at this point in the story, because that day I walked four miles to get to the river that surrounded the south-west end of town. Mom and Dad couldn't believe that they never found out, though I didn't know how they would. I told them, though, which counts for something.

When I finally got there, I set down the Walmart bag and set the leaf with the butterfly on it beside a tree so the wind wouldn't blow it away. I unwrapped the worn string from around the kite. I tried it out, to make sure it still worked. It floated just fine on the wind, so I tied the Walmart bag full of silver dollars onto the wood of the kite, knowing it wouldn't weigh too much because there were only ten and it was a good kite. Then I walked over to the leaf and picked it up, putting my hand gently on it so it wouldn't fly away just yet. I picked the little yellow butterfly up by its fragile wings and gently put it into the bag.

I took the piece of paper and pen and wrote just a couple words.

If you like to fly and maybe you even like coins, then here you go. I know there's someone out there who would like to see this kite and could use a bag of silver dollars and a set of butterfly wings.

Sincerely,

Life

P.S. Did I spell 'Sincerely' right?

I put the note in the bag, too. Then I let go and it flew.

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