Daddy, I still remember the butterflies

These memories are still so very fresh in my mind, as if they only happened yesterday and they are ones that will probably always be with me.

The mornings were almost always sunny, with the sun beating down on Daddy and me as we walked hand in hand around our yard. I was just a wee one then and so proud to be walking with my strong but gentle Daddy.

The air was fresh and cool, for the most part, and as we walked Daddy would describe things to me. The almond tree, standing tall and proud, loaded with green leaves and lots of fat juicy almonds. The red roses bowing gracefully on their long stems, and then there they were!

Those tiny butterflies flitting effortlessly around from leaf to leaf and Daddy sneaking up on them.

He would say softly to me that he wanted me to stand very still while he sneaked off to catch a butterfly for me and I did just that. I would stand there waiting and within a minute or so he would be back with his prize.

Daddy would tell me to open my hand and I would. Then he would place the tiny butterfly in the middle of my palm and then with the utmost of gentleness and care he would take the index finger of my other hand and place it gingerly on the butterfly's back.

Oh, how I loved these precious moments with my beloved Daddy. I would stand there for minutes on end with the tiny butterfly in my hand. Daddy would describe the little butterfly to me and, for the most part, it would be a yellow butterfly.

You see, Daddy knew that my favorite color was yellow and I am almost sure that he went out of his way to catch a yellow butterfly just for me.

I would do my best to be as still as possible and I would allow my index finger to rest as gingerly as possible on the butterfly's back, making sure not to squeeze too hard. Then, after a moment, Daddy would tell me to remove my finger so that the butterfly could fly away.

I'm Donna J. Jodhan, your friendly accessibility advocate, wishing you a terrific day.

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