Butterfly

Butterfly 426 words

Her name was Anne Gables. Growing up with a name like that forced a person to develop a good sense of humor.
It was her sense of humor that kept her going during the worst times – the deaths of her husband and sister in the same week, the collapse of her business, and her own recent stay in the hospital.

“Friggin’ hip,” she muttered to herself. She winced in pain as she took a seat on a bench.

“What Grandma?”

Anne couldn’t help but smile when she looked at her grandson, Carl. He was the only son of her only daughter. He had her big brown eyes and her high cheekbones. Shiny ringlets of brown hair. He got the cherub lips from his father, wherever he was. No angel, that one.

“Nothing, dear. Go on and play. I’m going to stay here and feed the birds.”

Anne watched as her grandson ran to the playground across the path. He knew the other children there, and they busied themselves playing tag and climbing the jungle gym. She fished a little bag of crackers from her purse and threw some to the pigeons on the grass. They cooed and pushed each other to get at the crumbs.

“Oh, quit fighting,” she said. “It’s only crackers.”

She loved these times, taking her grandson to the park on Saturday mornings. That particular Saturday morning was overcast and a bit chilly for early September, but still nice enough for an outing. It gave her daughter a bit of time off. Poor thing, working two jobs to make ends meet. But the ends met, and that’s what was important. That, and Carl.

Her husband would’ve loved that little boy.

Anne Gables watched as her grandson and his friends ran around in the grass, trying to catch a butterfly. They were making buzzing noises and laughing.

“Carl, what on earth are you all doing?” Anne asked, laughing.

“We’re gonna catch that bee, so we can make honey!”

“Sweetie that’s not a bee – it’s a butterfly.”

She watched Carl’s expression change to complete bafflement. Then Carl brightened up, and resumed the chase.

“Well,” the little boy said, “we can make butter instead!”

Anne laughed. She laughed harder than she ever had in her life. She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. She laughed despite the pain in her hip, despite the constant pangs of loss for her husband, despite the worry for her daughter. She laughed because she was alive, and little boys catching butterflies made it all worthwhile.