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“Yes. Like for example, I know that there are twenty-four thousand different species of butterflies and that their body temperature has to at least be eighty-six degrees for them to fly.”
“Wow, that’s correct. What else?”
“I know that butterflies don’t have taste buds. Instead they use sensors on their feet.”
“Well it sounds like you weren’t kidding. You educated yourself well - I’m impressed.”
“Are you now? I can continue to impress you with more facts if you’d like. Or I can tell you about something else I know a lot about.”
“And what would that be?” I smile at him absently as I admire a monarch butterfly fluttering in front of us.
“You. I know even more about you.”
“Well I should hope so, you’ve known me forever and I’ve told you a lot of things over the years.”
“No, I don’t mean things like that. I mean other facts about you.”
After I snap a photo of another butterfly with my phone’s camera I turn to him, “Like what?”
“Like the way your jaw clenches and you get this little vein that pulses in your temple when you’re mad but you’re trying to hide it.”
“I don’t have a pulsing vein.”
He smiles, “You make a humming noise of happiness when you take the first bite of something you think is really good.”
“I-”
“Yes,” he interrupts, “you do. You also get a look of admiration on your face when you see someone wearing something you’d like to have yourself. Like the girl you eyed when we walked in here – if I had to guess you really liked her…dress?”
“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration. And it was her shoes.”
He laughs, “I know your eyes crinkle when you smile, that you bite your lip when you read and that when it rains and worms find their way onto the sidewalk that they make you want to throw up.”
I laugh at that one, “They are so slimy and gross.”
We move together to the back of the garden area where we can look through a window at butterflies in various stages of metamorphosis.
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” I look from cocoon to cocoon in awe. “They spend days – some of them weeks - in self-imposed darkness because they know they’ll become beautiful. It’s more than that though, they’ll become who they were always meant to be.”
“That’s true, but I think I look at it a little differently.”
“How so?”
“I think one can learn something from a butterfly. That sometimes you may have to go through something dark, something difficult, in order to emerge stronger, more beautiful and whole. I think that they can be a sign of hope and faith - that we can triumph through darkness.”
His words aren’t anything I haven’t heard before in relation to a butterfly, it’s true. There are beautiful quotes and art work available to buy on many items that say something along those same lines. Maybe that’s why I’ve always loved them too in part, but I know that’s not what he’s getting at right now. I can hear the intent in Oliver’s tone. What he’s trying to convey without directly saying it. And when Oliver places his hands on my shoulders, turns me toward him and puts his finger under my chin lifting it so I’ll look him in the eyes, I know he’s going to say as much.
“Just like you, Remy. You are going through something difficult, something I would take away from you in a second if I could, but you’re making an assumption about the end result. This is your darkness, your metamorphosis. Something that you’ll emerge from more beautiful than ever.”
“Oliver-”
“I know you said you don’t want to talk about this on the trip.”
“I don’t. There’s nothing to discuss.”
“I couldn’t disagree with you more.”
“Not here and now, Oliver. Please.”
