Butterfly LoveBeautiful butterflies of all colors of the rainbow covered his arms. Some looked like they had just landed there to rest for a while while others were captured in flight. We joked calling them Sharpie Butterflies. Most of the time he drew them on himself, but every once in a while, if I saw he was particularly sad, I'd grab up the pink and purple sharpies he'd made a home for in my backpack and draw my own butterflies on his skin. And everytime I'd catch him staring at the insects coming to life.More Like This
Of course there was a purpose to these little creatures congregating on his arms. As much as I'd like them to come into being just for the fun of seeing and creating such beautiful things, it wasn't why they were there. They were there to help him in a way. Sometimes they did help, but other times...not.
I was holding him tightly, afraid that if I let go I'd be letting go of him completely. I was afraid that by letting him go I'd lose him to an infinite darkness. So I held tight and rocked him