Tuesday, November 9, 2010

An Afghan, A Dog and a Bowl of Onion Soup

Tonight's the night to relax and damn it, ponder. What could possibly be better to expedite this than being curled up with the soft, cotton-knitted afghan your aunt made, a rescue dog that sleeps blissfully in her Martha Stewart bed, and a medium-size bowl of home-made (moi) turkey, onion and cumin soup? Nada! Nada could be better, and as life would have it...I will slurp my soup (because I can!) and let you know a secret that I've been holding... It occured today while Delilah and I headed out on our routine walk over the dirt trails behind the 'ole tralier park.
It's a secret because well, I debated whether I should share it with you all because in sharing it, there is the possibility that you might find it trite or laughable or even insignificant. Of course, I could give a flying-fuck if you find it trivial or meaningless!" LOL.

So, I have this history with butterflies. Wen knows this, and now you do. In high school, my mother bought me everything with butterflies on it: stationery, tee-shirts, jewelry. I bought her butterfly decorated Hallmark cards in return. It was "our thing."
When I turned 18, I got a small tattoo on my right ankle of a butterfly in flight. (If you had seen the guy who held the ink, you would understand why all he got to see was my right ankle!) My mom never out-grew the whole butterfly thing even though I did. For years she sent me things adorned with the winged-creature, framed my butterfly poems and even decorated several birthday cakes with icing images of the orange and black moths. After she died in 1996, I had two very strange incidents happen... One where I was washing my car, a 1975 convertible VW Bug, WITH THE HOOD DOWN!! As I'm spraying away, a monarch lands on the head-rest of the passenger side and sits there. I continue spraying, wiping, moving from one side of the vehicle to the other...and the damn thing doesn't move. "Hi, mom." I heard myself saying. That was in 2001 or 2002. Back then, I continually asked for "signs" from her. It happened a second time at her gravesite in 2005. I was planting flowers, cleaning up debris and re-arranging items left by friends when it landed and stayed without a flutter for a seemingly endless amount of time. I even intentionally "shooed it!" Anyways, so on the trail today Delilah, my senior deaf dog with all sorts of "issues" and I were walking at a snail's pace and a monarch landed on the dirt in front of me. It didn't move. I walked by it and so did Delilah and that thing stayed fearlessly planted! I remained intently fixed on it, and when it finally flew up and away, I attempted unsuccessfully to locate its air-path. Then, out of nowhere, it landed on my sweatshirt! On the left side of the lapel to be exact! And you know it! It stayed. It stayed and stayed even as I continued walking.

So aloud, I told her about my day...about this new pooch we've rescued...about my unquenchable desire to be published... about the daily happenings in my extraordinary relationship of now 16 years...and about how much I appreciate her near if only through this "sign." All this, I uttered outloud, as if the surrounding eucalyptus trees could be trusted with a secret as well as you...


  1. Thanks for this story tonight Val. It just gave me a sweet inner smile. I know you're a believer.....and I know your a published writer because I just read you. Please take a small moment to OWN that.
    May you have butterfly dreams.......
    Shem Son of Noah

  2. I love you Val. And I love these blogs of yours. How beautiful is that? Your mama coming down again to visit you and Delilah.
    Can't wait for our time together at retreat!!!
    xxoo Annie

  3. I have an old book about two catapillars who fall in love...it's a beautiful love tale. Someday I'll call you, and we can meet over a big glass of wine or a cup of coffee and I'll read the story to you.
    Thank you for sharing your thoughts. Max likes butterflies...he watches them...never tries to catch them...he really loves all animals...gentle, loving boy. Marsha

  4. Beautiful story......I'm sorry I missed your mom yesterday. I adore you!