by Cheryl Johnston
The girl cried in her mother's arms.
"Don't go, momma," she whispered.
"Listen to me child," said the wise woman. "We are all butterflies."
The child looked up with large, curious eyes. "What do you mean?"
"We begin on earth as caterpillars. In our time, we stuff ourselves with the
treasures of life. For me, nature is merely taking its course. I am going to turn into
a butterfly."
"But you won't be here…"
"I'll be flying above, always watching over you."
"Will I see you again? After I become a butterfly?"
A smile spread across the mother's face while a tear slid down her cheek.
"Of course, my dear, we will meet again."
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