One Year/Butterfly
Tuesday, Dec. 04, 2001 ~ 11:43 p.m.
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Can you believe that I've been at this for a year today? . . . I would have done this entry earlier, but I slept in and then I had to work . . . . it's better that it worked out that way because, on the way to work, something opened my mind . . . and I think I may have a lot more to say than I would have if I had done this entry before I went to work . . . (that probably didn't make a whole lot of sense, but you'll get over it) If you want to see the very first entry that I did, click on the "first" link next to the date on this entry. I'm gonna start something new as well . . . I've found one of my old paper journals, and I've decided that I'm gonna keep it at work and bring it home about once a week or so . . . I'll write on my breaks and on lunch when ever I feel like writing, which seems to be more and more now-a-days (which is good) . . . I actually started that a few days ago . . . probably two days ago or so . . . Oy . . . I'm rather cold . . . I made an exception to the work journal today . . . I started today's journal entry at work, so I brought home the sheet of paper I had written on . . .(since the journal was at home anyway)
It would be the one day that I didn't bring paper that I would see something that opened the gate to the words that have been locked away for a month or more. So here I sit, half an hour after the sight, with only enough time to begin what my mind wants to say. It'll be another two hours at least until I can continue. I'm sitting in the breakroom at work writing on borrowed paper with a pen that's running out of ink. I managed to jot a few things down in my palm pilot. Just a few, hoping that by seeing those few things, I won't lose the thoughts that I had when I first saw it. It's amazing that so simple a thing could open my mind the way it did.
That's as far as I got though . . . I didn't get either of my breaks and I only really got a 20 minute lunch . . . Janet didn't come in 'cause she was doing inventory at another store . . . however, they didn't replace her shift with anyone . . . so I was on my own from 4-11 . . . Anyway, back to what I saw . . .
I left for work about an hour before I had to be there . . . I wanted to stop and get something to eat before work . . . As soon as I turned to corner off my street, I saw a solitary butterfly . . . there was barely any breeze, but there was enough for the butterfly to glide to the wall that ran along the sidewalk where I was . . . I watched it for a moment, wishing that I had my camera, and I realized that it has been years since I can remember seeing a butterfly. Maybe I've seen them since then, but I was too busy to pay attention . . . or maybe they just haven't been around. I realized that I had forgotten how graceful and beautiful something like that was . . . . I watched a while longer as it sat, holding on to the corner of the wall . . . It seemed to stretch its wings out for a moment, then the slight breeze caught a hold of them again and the butterfly struggled to keep a hold of the stone . . . It was still holding on when I turned and continued down the road. I couldn't recall when I had ever seen a butterfly out floating in December . . . It was an animal out of place . . . belonging to another place in time . . . A shadow of summer . . . The further I walked and thought about that simple experience, the more I began to see similarities between it and my life. I began to wonder about my own forgotten grace . . . I know I had it once, it's just a matter of finding it again. Sometimes I wonder if I was born in the wrong time . . . sometimes I feel as if I belong in another place in history, back in the distant past, but then I think about the freedom I actually have, and I know that I wouldn't be happy in any other time. It's more than that too . . . I'm not fond of change. I like to stay where I am. I feel like I fight with time, the world and with life . . . but unlike the wall beneath the butterfly's feet, the "wall" beneath my fingers crumbles, and inevitably I'm swept along with the passing world . . . I get dragged along behind it until I can find a more sturdy wall.
Sometimes it's necessary to just take the time to stop and watch something simple and seemingly unimportant . . . if you know how to look, there's grace and beauty in just about anything. I've been trying to find words to write a poem with for a while now . . . perhaps tomorrow I'll be able to. 0 comments so far   
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