A new season

They were everywhere. They floated over the highway and danced in the clouds. They fluttered in the trees and floated over the sidewalk. They were in the Walgreen's parking lot and sunbathing on the flowers in my front yard. No matter where I went or where I looked, all I saw was butterflies for days.

As I walked down the sidewalk, a familiar friend brushed against my cheek.

"Where did they all come from?" I asked immediately.

"We could ask the same about you," he teased, clutching onto the strands of my pale hair. He wove the strands around his tiny hands, fluttering his wings gently.

"Why are they here?" I tried again.

"It is fall." His voice was warm and full of joy. His bright orange and gold wings fluttered against the soft gold of my hair; his fall next to my summer. "It is a new season, a time for new beginnings. You're fresh on a new beginning yourself."

"How did you know?" My mouth dropped open.

"We always know," he reminded me. "But this beginning will be different than all the others."

"Because I only have a year?" I let the words tumble over my tongue. For the first time, I really tasted them. I had a year. Only a year to achieve the goals I set for myself at 19. One tiny year.

The butterfly fluttered his wings as if he sensed my thoughts. "A year is a long time," he said gently. "But it also is only an instant."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, the fear and uncertainty beginning to freeze my thoughts. "It's just so frustrating," I murmured, letting him slide down my hair and nestle on my neck. "No many how many hours I have, I never can quite get everything done."

"And you never will," the butterfly replied, his voice pure honestly. There were no excuses, no whines or whimpers in his words. "But that is not what is different about this beginning. You're what is different."

"How so?" I asked. I had only been a year older for a day now.

"You are not afraid," he whispered, the words grazing my ear like a silky ribbon. "Even while facing nothing but uncertainty, you know what will happen. You are confident in yourself and your abilities. You are no longer depending on anyone for comfort."

"I don't know if I'd go that far," I grinned. "I'm still pretty crazy."

The butterfly's antennae twitched. "That will never change," he replied dryly. I giggled, my shoulders bouncing as the butterfly leaped to my neck in alarm.

"So what does it mean?" I asked as we rounded the corner.

"You know what it means," the butterfly said, his tone stern. "It means you're open to options, for possibilities. You no longer have the comfort of never ending stability."

"And that's bad," I said sharply. "I don't like change. I don't like the idea that everything will be upside down. I don't like the idea of not knowing."

"But that's what makes it so grand," the butterfly whispered, his wings tickling my cheek. "That's what makes this beginning so different."

"I don't understand." My voice haltered. The butterfly flew to the tip of my nose. His wings opened and closed slowly as he stared into my eyes.

"When one doesn't know the road ahead, one can go anywhere," he replied simply. "And you will. You have the strength to trust yourself now. You have the heart to do it." And with that, he fluttered into the breeze. His orange wings blended in with the dozens of other butterflies, flapping in the bright sky until I could no longer see him. Smiling, I brushed a tree as I passed toward the door. A few leaves tumbled on my shoulder and I caught them in my palm.

It was a new season.