It’s hot. I can’t sleep.
The open window is my only source of cool air and there is no breeze. Staring into the darkness unable to rest, I resign. Better to read than stare at the ceiling for hours.
I flick on the lamp and resume my current supernatural suspense. 
Almost immediately I am visited by a butterfly. Cool! It (He? She?) lands on my nose and seems to be staring at me with its orb-y, stickin’- out eyes. Not a moth; a butterfly – the small monarchy looking one. I stare cross-eyed back at it, wondering why it’s awake this late at night. G-d alone knows what the butterfly is thinking. It must have something to do with rotating antennae. This is so weird I fight the compulsion to brush it away and we stare at each other. It’s still better than looking at the ceiling.
I have always felt that personal experiences with animals proved that a direct connection to the realm of magic and alien life was possible like a kind of message from the universe or a mystic calling. It’s happening to me again with this butterfly. When I was nine I thought about such things all the time. Always hoping for another sign of the magic, I took silver linings seriously, wanting to know if there were any golden linings.
Lately, it has been raccoons. A mama coon with four babies visits us every night, early enough to be entertainment with dinner. I have learned that giving them some leftovers from the fridge keeps them from turning over the garbage cans. I know the dangers and keep my distance but I get to watch. What intrigues me is the eye contact; they look right into a particular part of your soul, transmitting an extra-sensory warning: “If you do anything to scare me, I will never trust you again.” It’s a contract and I obey. Besides, what if they can hear my thoughts? “Aw, she thinks I’m cute.”
But Babs the butterfly is sending me sweet nothings and we’re becoming friends. I felt a deep relaxing sigh well up from the depths, and right on cue Babs gently takes her leave and saunters, as only butterflies can, out the open window. Is it my imagination or is it cooler?
Yep, it’s cool enough to put down the unfinished fiction and turn out the light.
Was that magic? Coincidence? Alien contact? D, none of the above? I drift into the unknown buoyed on a breeze from hundreds of black and orange fans.
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