Creativeness and Butterflies

I can pretty much write something about anything. Most who know me, know I’ve written short stories about a bit of everything.

Could I write about a box of Kleenex? Yes, and I actually have a short, fictional story about one.

Today’s thoughts are about butterflies. I am intrigued by them and the symbolism surrounding them – rebirth, freedom, etc. My grandmother collected them, and one dropped by my son-in-law’s graveside funeral service and stayed for the eulogy before it fluttered off to perhaps make an appearance somewhere else noteworthy.

My neighbor has a flowering plant at the front of her house that butterflies flock to, and sometimes I go over there ostensibly to talk to her, but most times it’s to admire the many different butterflies that visit her flowers. I guess I could plant similar flowers, but I’ve already talked about my lack of a green thumb, so it would be a waste of money for me to take that route. I guess I might as well continue to be a social butterfly myself (get it?).

I crack myself up sometimes.