My husband will turn fifty next week. To celebrate, last weekend he went skydiving. I have no plans to ever follow suit.
On my fiftieth, I’m getting a tattoo.
A butterfly, between my shoulder blades. Something I will always know is there, but not visible when I am wearing work clothes. Not that I believe in totem animals, but if I did have one, it would be a butterfly.
Butterflies appear fragile and delicate. They seem weak. This is misleading. They are far stronger than they appear. Monarchs, for example, migrate thousands of miles each year between their summer and winter homes.
I am stronger than I would seem. I am stronger than I allow myself to express, to think, to feel.
I need to remember this. Maybe the butterfly on my back will help.