Sweet dreams...of being a butterfly.

I still remember the day. It was cold. Below freezing. But sunny. Calm. Pleasant. Invigorating. Jeanne wrapped in a bulky thermal sleeping bag. A cocoon. Strapped in a wheelchair. Off we go. For 7 miles. Then we’re back in Jeanne’s room at the nursing home. I unwrap Jeanne. Slowly. And I exclaim, “My gawd, Jeanne, you’ve become a butterfly." Jeanne grins. A big, big grin. Like a little girl. Believing. That night, as I tuck Jeanne into bed, I declare, “Remember, Jeanne, you are a butterfly.” I whisper it. Again and again. And I see a long-lasting smile. Of delight. I move like a dancer. My arms and hands swaying, To mimic the fluttering flight of a beautiful butterfly. And yes, I turn off the lights. And wish Jeanne sweet dreams…of being a butterfly. –Jim Broede