As I was walking to my nephew's soccer game last Saturday, I passed a quiet spot where a boy knelt down lost in his own thoughts. I stopped & saw that he was trying to pick up a butterfly. "Someone's going to step on her," he said. I think she got battered by a car & couldn't fly well anymore.



Oliver...his name was Oliver...the boy...not the butterfly. He was being so gentle trying to get her to climb onto his fingers.
He seemed so proud cupping her in his loving hands. All his patient work coaxing her there had finally paid off...but his soccer game was starting & he got that little boy panicked-what-should-I-do look on his face.


(cute, isn't he?)


(& so proud)



I silently placed my hands next to his & the butterfly walked into my hands & Oliver was off down the field...then came running back to ask if he could take her picture with my camera.



The whole thing put a smile on my face. I put her under a tree where no one would walk & would have loved to have stayed there the rest of the day thinking silly thoughts & laying low.

(notice my I clover the Redsox shirt...oh yeah.)