Unexplained Mysteries

         Our eyes turned upward, toward the ceiling, white as a new sheet of paper.  We saw no sign of what we were looking for, what we were sure must be somewhere.
         It had all started with a bag of Dum Dums.  I really don’t know what possesses an otherwise smart adult to buy this candy.  It was not unusual for these lollipops to start trouble or mayhem.  Perhaps parents believe the sugary-goodness is a perfect reward for good behavior.  However, once opening a bag, the result is seldom a good one.  Even when I was younger and most flavored treats things came in only the terrific three (Orange, Grape, or Cherry) Dum Dums came in about a thousand flavors.  They came in so many flavors, that even the kid who loved grape, anything grape, and nothing but grape, took no less than fifteen minutes to pick.  And after you picked it was never the right flavor.  You always wanted what your friend got, and she wanted yours.  So you went back hoping to get a different flavor only to find out none remained.  In the end, the well-meaning adult was usually left with mother lode of half-eaten suckers and their crumpled wrappers, most of which never made it to the trash, in addition to a group of kids more ornery than before the whole fiasco.  And now they were sugar-buzzed.
         So it’s a bit surprising that Jill’s mom even considered buying a bag of Dum Dums.  However, Jill, my other friend Laura and I were generally good natured children and not prone to fights, so she risked it and let us go at a fresh bag of them.  After waiting a couple hours for Jill and Laura to pick their flavor, I had my chance.  Naturally, I picked one of the pink ones.  I don’t remember which one, and I probably wasn’t even aware of which kind it was at the time.  I simply searched the bag for whichever wrapper was prettiest.  I was going through a pink phase, which lasted about five years.  For me, flavor was irrelevant, so long as the color was pink.
         Now the lollipop I chose that day was quite important, rather mysterious in fact.  I could tell just as soon as I’d ripped off the waxy wrapper that we had a mystery on our hands.  The lollipop’s surface was normally smooth aside from the raised band that you always cut your tongue on.  But this lollipop was different.  A small, round hole, was formed right on the side.  The crevice went deep into the center of the sugar-ball on a stick.  I quickly called my friends near to have a look.  After a bit of quick pondering, we came to a conclusion.  A caterpillar had made a home in my sucker, had turned into a butterfly and escaped some time between when I tore off the wrapper, and when I examined it before eating.  Now, of course, I couldn’t eat the lollipop, not after a caterpillar had been crawling around inside.  But we had something more important to do than get another lollipop; we had to find that butterfly.  It was obviously wandering helplessly around the house, looking for a way out.  We would find it and set it free into the wild, we decided.
         All afternoon, we kept our eyes on the ceiling.  We strained our eyes to search the corners high above us.  We went upstairs, thinking it had perhaps flown higher in attempt to escape.  No luck.  Well, desperate times called for desperate measures.  It was time to go to the dungeon.  It wasn’t uncommon for modern houses such as Jill’s (and mine) to include a dungeon.  This place was, for some, only a spacious area where a lone water heater sat. The place was kept clear in case it was needed as a shelter during tornado season.  For many, however, the dungeon was a place filled with ancient artifacts.  If planned correctly and not caught, you could spend a good time looking at old baby clothes, moth-chewed sweaters from the 80’s (in case they came back in style), old toys and -Oh my gosh that pacifier my parents spent a good three months coaxing out of my three-and-a-half year-old mouth!  But we weren’t venturing into the dungeon for long-lost mementos of babyhood today.  Today it was a search-and rescue mission.  It involved courage, flashlights, and jump ropes to hold onto so that we wouldn’t lose one another. We ventured downward, although it was forbidden.  We searched behind old toy mountains and in outgrown clothing seas. We did our best to help that poor butterfly.  I’m certain we were on the verge of finding it, when we heard a creak on the stairs.  Busted. 
         We trudged upstairs, guilty-faced, trying to explain the life or death situation to Jill’s mom.  As we sat in time out on the green carpeted stairs, I sadly realized we might never find the butterfly. I guess some mysteries go unsolved.  Like why in the world does someone buy a bag of Dum Dums?  They only cause trouble.