There is a wall on a building on the other side of the city. It is covered in a mural of butterflies and cocoons. It bursts with colour and life.
We’ve been going to this building quite a bit lately. We go there for appointments to get some help for my boy. He’s struggling a bit in life. And I’m his mum, so I do all I can do to help him. He’s going to be okay. I know this.
Last week we stopped at the wall to take it in. Right there in the middle of our busy lives we stopped. The beauty. The bright orange and green. We let it all in. We counted all the butterflies, all the ants, and all the leaves. And then we were still.
When I worry about the boy, I remember this wall. I remember how transformation is inbuilt in nature. Chrysalis is part of the design. Things won’t stay the same. There is hope. We keep working our way through it until one day we emerge from the cocoon a different creature.
He’s not the only one going through transformation. I’m changing with every step he makes. He teaches me who I am. I’m learning and doing. I’m clearing and creating. I’m lifting burdens I have carried too long. It’s hard work in the cocoon. But if we twist and turn enough our wings will start to unfold.
I’m about ready to fly.
We were at the butterfly wall again yesterday. The boy loves counting those butterflies. I love counting how many ways I love him.
