Dead Butterfly

I was driving home from Tucson on Saturday. I was driving a State Van because I had to be in Tucson on Friday on State business. These vans are the pits because no one ever reads the manual for them. Every stupid knob and latch in the dam thing is busted from people yanking on them the wrong way. It took me forever to get my iPod working so I could listen to my 'Top Rated Rock' Playlist. The dang power outlet had been broken by some previous driver. When I finally did get it to work, I was rocking out to about 400 songs that I had picked out as being 'exceptional' from my collection. I was grooving. Hell, I wasn't paying for the gas, and I had good tunes.


I was just passing Picacho Peak on my way north toward Phoenix, when ... SPLAT ... the Monarch butterfly that was crossing the road, didn't quite make it. He impaled himself right on the windshield wiper arm in front of the driver seat. His little colorful wings were shaking in the 60mph wind that was hitting the front of the van.


I tried the windshield wipers to try and throw him off. But he would not budge. I knew he was dead, but his wings continued to flutter in the wind. I could not help but look at him and the intricacy and delicate patterning of his wings. I guess he never knew what hit him.


It was as though Mother Nature was speaking to me and saying, "Hey, numb nuts, stop paying attention to all the trivial bullshit in life. Look what I create on an everyday basis, and you never notice. Look, here it is right in front of you! Can you help but be amazed at the beauty?"


That little butterfly pounded that image into my mind as I drove the 60 miles back to the house. Those small delicate wings, with intricate designs of color and texture, were impaled on the front of a 2002 Chevy Van. There was some sort of strange irony in the whole thing and after it happened, the music on the iPod didn't sound quite as good.