Butterfly
Adrianna was my butterfly, a beautiful being in a perpetual chrysalis stage just waiting to emerge into her fully self-actualized state. Always on the cusp but just not quite there, at least to her own satisfaction. It was even one of her favorite words, or at least the Spanish version:
“La mariposa.”
When she was a little girl and learned that in Spanish class she fell in love with the sound of the word, an almost onomatopoeia whose lilting pronunciation captured the lifeforce of a being who’d burst forth after their metamorphosis to live an all-to-short couple of weeks. But they’d live their best lives during that month.
During the summer of 1995 she’d repeat the butterfly’s Spanish name almost endlessly and it became our summer song. A short song like the life cycle of the butterfly, but just as beautiful.
I used songwriting as an outlet then to express and attempt to capture my intense love for her. Little distilled and concentrated three to five minute pieces of my heart and soul. I had no illusions as to the quality of these songs, but I didn’t care. They were the best way I had to express myself… mainly to myself, but also for her. Plus, I didn’t really have a choice; a guitar lived in my hands most waking hours then, and melody, chord progressions and words just came out whether I wanted them to or not.
That summer, the summer of the mariposa, I wrote a song called “Butterfly,” this time without guitar in hand, but while I was supposedly teaching a computer class at Exline near Fair Park in Dallas. While the kids were at their computers playing Math Blaster I saw Adri, who came with me to the summer classes, playing with a group of kids at the far end of the room. Twirling, spinning, flittering about with her wide bright eyes and infectious laughter.
The words and music were at once in my head, born somehow fully formed. I scribbled them down and kept repeating the music in my head, music that to me captured the movements of la mariposa, hoping I wouldn’t forget it by the time I had a chance to pick up a guitar and make a quick recording.
I didn’t forget.
Again, no illusions as to quality. I did all this for me, mostly, and her. I knew that I’d always have to keep my day job. But they served their purpose, these songs. And with those caveats, I share the lyrics for Butterfly, in yet another attempt to honor my daughter and at the same time keep myself from being swallowed up by all this darkness. I need to push the darkness out and fill it, just a bit, with images of my butterfly who I miss so much:
She floats by, like a butterfly,
Flittering, gracefully.
Eyes so bright, captured starlight so blue.
When she smiles
She sends a thousand ships,
When she laughs
The birds all sing.
When she cries
A little part of me dies.
Every day she has a lot to say,
Whispering endlessly.
Gentle voice, full of crimson and gold.
If I’m lost,
Then she will lead the way;
When I’m found
She’ll be right there.
When she leaves
A little part of me dies.
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