The Nameless Butterfly

The Nameless Butterfly

The lights went on inside. She sat on a log facing her paddocks. God she’d missed this. The only music came from the birds and trees. The sun melted into the hill casting shadows over the land. The ants danced on the ankles and the wind blew in her face. These things made her feel like she was finally home. It was time to let her younger sister Tami go. It had been four days since her death. She’d never shed a tear. Now that she was home it felt like it was finally allowed to let go. It hadn’t hurt her mum at all she had been on the phone. Too busy, to hear the screech of the wheels, the sudden thud and the shrill scream of the driver. She remembered the look on the driver that would never leave her memories. The quiet yells from Tami, she had held her hand until the ambulance came and took her away. The phone still off the hook as her mother calmly chatted to a friend. Her hand still grasped Tami’s as she whispered "look I’ve caught it." She held up her hand and the butterfly flew away. Then Tami was gone, shed left the world, and left the butterflies she loved so much. A bird chirped and it brought her back to the present. The country house, sat still like a lipstick laid forgotten. The house was empty and smelled of dust. A little girl ran through her dreams chasing butterflies. Tami. The sun leaked through the shack and bursts of light bounced off the walls, on the bed, in her hair. She finally woke up. “Play with me.” Tami pleaded “No, later, where in the city because of ME and I want to have a good time.”
“Play with me please, look butterflies!”
“Tami LATER.”
“If I catch a butterfly will you play with me?”
“Whatever.” She ignored the memory.
Days past and with night came the dreams of Tami, not a single tear fell. The following day she sat on the log, it was heating up. Memories flooded slotting together she ignored them. A light flapping went past. A butterfly. Tami. Her sister. She broke down and the river of memories flowed. Tami. Bored. “Play with me.” “No.” The phone ringing. Her mother, talking. Tami, chasing butterflies. The screech of the wheels. The thud of Tami, and then nothing. Tami was now lifeless and nameless, like herself. The tears fell. The butterfly lived on.