Butterfly

This weekend, my nephew graduated from high school.  
I held Trevor as a newborn baby and have watched him grow into a kind, thoughtful, smart young man who makes me proud.

This weekend, my son fell asleep in his car seat.  He was so tired that he didn't stir when I lifted him out and cradled that three-and-a-half year old just as I did when he was tiny.  His head in the crook of my arm, I looked down at his face and kissed his nose and knew that there are very few of these stolen baby boy moments left.

This weekend, I visited a butterfly house and watched staff carefully place new-from-the-cocoon butterflies onto sticks where they could rest and dry their wings.

 

 

I watched the new butterflies for a little while.  Several times I saw them edge towards the end of the stick, flexing their wings.  Open.  Shut.  Open.  Shut.  Then the butterfly would take off and join the other butterflies fluttering around the greenhouse.  Fancy that -- seeing the very first time a butterfly takes flight. 

 

I took lots of photographs in the butterfly house.  When I looked at the images at home, I realized some of the butterflies look crisp and new while some are a little raggedy around the edges.

 

 

This weekend was a good time to stop and take it all in.