THE FLIGHT OF A YELLOW BUTTERFLY

It's funny how things quickly coalesce into one thing – like the blue sky – did I ever know how blue it really is? Turning into one circle of blue with a brilliant white cloud shaped like a pirate ship –

I didn't even know I was dreaming of pirates. Pirates are nasty; not like the comic movies, they ambush and hurt . . . Did I think that? Ambush and hurt . . . leave you bleeding looking up into a sky that never before seemed so perfect . . .

And somehow even the warmth of the red blood dripping from my body seems to blend with the warmth of the sun.

She's looking down at me and reaching out her arms and her eyes – they all say I have her eyes, which is strange because they have never seen her except for pictures – and her eyes were the most beautiful in the world. I guess I inherited her long, dark lashes – girl's lashes, the boys in Boston would taunt me about – although I heard my lashes were the envy of all the girls and they seemed to find them sexy . . . Sexy? Cute! Cute! That is the word I always heard associated with me amid giggles, he is sooooo cute, look at that raven hair and milky white skin. . .and some girls would turn my looks into a poem, how silly is that? guess I should feel flattered . . .

Sexy? Me? The one the girls in school seemed to love to pat on the head like a little boy, which I guess, I always looked like. At 16, they thought I was twelve. It probably didn't help that as well as the youngest-looking and the smallest boy in my classes, I was one of the smartest, which meant I was always two to three grades ahead of the others. At times, I sometimes wished I was dumb or at least had the sense to play dumb then I would be in grades where the kids, ahhh, girls would be closer to my age and maybe not want to just pat me on the head . . . wait am I now sounding like Buck . . .

So why am I thinking I missed an opportunity?

I didn't really. Me, still the youngest, still the smallest, and STILL THE CUTEST according to the office staff who recently voted me that (according to Buck if he can be trusted on this) I am still part of Chris Larabee's ATF, or MSATF, the Magnificent Seven ATF. If it wouldn't hurt, I just might pinch myself to make sure that is true and not part of a dream, I am starting to feel real fuzzy right now and maybe the blue sky is turning a bit gray . . .

A small itch on my arm rouses me and makes me jump, Did I fall asleep? Or maybe pass out would be more apropos, Ha! An Ezra word, and wouldn't it just be my luck to get bitten by a spider, no wait a red ant determined to rob me of my peaceful dozing . . . I'll bet Buck had something to do with it and whispered to the ant to wake me up, wake him up, I'm coming, JD! Hang on! And suddenly the lump in my throat grows to the size of a grapefruit and the tears I have held back sting my lashes. Mom seems so close and yet so far, beckoning, reaching down to reassure me with her beautiful smile that it's all right to come home now, come home, baby, I've missed you and I want to feel her arms around me as she holds me so close it's like she'll never let me go, Mama, Mama!

Fight, JD, fight! Where did that thought come from?

Maybe I should fight or just lay here, stunned, just like the day Justin Oliver, so big he could make up three of me, hit me so hard it knocked me on my butt and my ears rang – I knew at that moment how it felt to get your bell rung – just because Laura Owens dared to smile at me. I wanted to fight, but couldn't get my body to coöperate and that how it feels now, my body is in charge and it just wants me to let go, drift off on a pirate's vessel in the English Channel . . English Channel? But floating towards the Emerald Isle, Ireland, just like I always wanted to visit Ireland, to thank it for giving me the milky white skin that is always easily sunburned like it probably is now . . .

A yellow butterfly catches my attention as it flies and hovers around and around like a protector, do you think Buck could change into a yellow butterfly, Buck? And a semi-hysterical giggle parts my dry lips, because the butterfly won't go away – not that I want it to and lands on my nose, its wings tickling and making me giggle until I realize the giggling (crap, like a girl) hurts! And stop giggling long enough to hiccup out another sob.

It won't be long now. Somehow there is comfort in that thought, and as the butterfly keeps me company by hovering, a bird, an eagle maybe, but that is wishful thinking, I love eagles, soars among the clouds, what do birds see where they fly high and I'm Irish, is there really a pot of gold beyond the rainbow and will I find out before I . . . before I . . .

I wish, I wish there was someone here to soothe me, talk to me, maybe fight like I can't seem to fight anymore, but the chances of that . . . I can't remember why, why I don't think they will find me . . . there must be some reason, but I can no longer think of it and now but the team is not called the Magnificent Seven for nothing and I can trust them with my life and it seems I have to now . . .

Yellow butterfly. Like your favorite color of dress, Mama, you would glow like sunshine when you wore it and twirled and twirled, are you the butterfly, Mama? Hovering over me to watch over me. . . Mama, Mama, I'm scared, Mama! I don't want to be brave now, I just want them to coddle and comfort me like they always do, especially Buck, you know Mama they love me almost as much as you did and it will hurt them to find me here knowing they couldn't save me and why can't I stop thinking and wondering if it is possible I will look any whiter in the coffin than I am now, can I get any whiter?

Please, little butterfly, stay here, but I can do without the red ant or it is two crawling on my arm, you just try to sting me again and Vin can shoot you off my arm without disturbing a hair on my arm, that's how good Vin is, Vin! Vin! Please help me, Vin! Another . . . hiccup . . . sob. You're such a big baby, JD. Catch Chris crying like this . . . or Ezra, Ezra can you teach me your poker face? I think, I think that may be partly why I am here now, the pirates caught the astonishment on my face, Ezra, I couldn't bluff them like you and they made me walk the plank . . walk the plank. . . . Josiah, is there really a time allotted to die? Do you have a choice? I know people die young, but I really wanted to reach my 21st birthday and see if you six still call me kid, card me, who am I fooling of course they'll still do it if I am here . . . but will I be here, Nathan? Come soon, Nathan, I promise to do anything you tell me . . . Nate . . . Nate . . .

Chris, do you ever regret hiring me? Did I ever let you down? Of course I did, just a stupid kid, I can almost see the exasperation in your face when you're wanting to spank me like a little kid and yet be sensitive to the fact I am just so young . . .

Everyone thinks you never hold back, just explode, but I know, I know, I could see it in your eyes, a secret I may take to my . . . my grave . . . and why can I see a man in black standing at a grave and sobbing . . . no, it hurts too much to think of Buck . . . Buck . . . all the women will want to console him, Buck . . . calling me "lil bro", whispering to me the last time he thought they might lose me, "I always wanted a little brother, Kid, and you're the only one who could ever fit the bill, Shortstuff," and other terms of endearments I can't say in front of you, Mama, they may not sound nice, but it means he cares, Mama, he loves me and I love him . . . and Mama, don't be mad, I don't wanna leave, I don't wanna . . .

Shhhh, baby. Shhhh, it's okay, Mama's here. The wind whispered softly, caressing the boy's pale cheeks.

Mama? And the yellow butterfly morphed into a dark-haired, smiling woman reaching out her arms, and the tormenting thoughts faded as quietly as the dark-haired boy lying on the grass . . .