Laura Miller - Butterfly Weeds

Now, you and I both know that I’ll wait a lifetime for you — remember, Butterfly Weeds never give up — so take your time down there. And tonight, as you watch that big, orange sun disappear into the earth and your world gradually grow dark, I’ll help God turn on the stars, and I’ll wait for my dawn — when you return to me, Julia Stephens.

I love you, My Butterfly. You’ll always be my endless song.

Love always and forever,

Your one and only Butterfly Weed, Will

P.S. Make a wish for me.

Tears well up in my eyes, as I lose myself in his soulful words from another world.

“My last piece of you,” I whisper as I gently kiss the letter, then bring it to my chest and press it against my racing heart.

After a moment, I let my hand slowly fall to my lap as I close my tired eyes tightly and take a frail, labored breath, feeling my lungs gradually fill with air. Then, slowly again, I exhale, and feel the sensation of every quickened heartbeat in my chest.

“I carried you with me as well,” I whisper, as the tears trickle down my wrinkled cheeks. “Thank you for giving me wings, Will Stephens, and thank you for guiding me home.”

I pause, as my heartbeat slows to a normal pace again. I allow myself to relax, though my tears continue to squeeze past my closed, weary eyelids.

“I miss you,” I say quietly into the breeze.

I sit motionless in my chair for a while then, letting the gentle, warm, evening gusts glide softly across my aging face. I replay Will’s timeless love song again in my head, and eventually, all of my quietly held heartache melts away.

When I open my eyes again, I notice that the sun has finally escaped back into the earth and that the world has grown vastly quiet except for the few tree frogs and crickets beginning their night songs in the oaks surrounding me. The brightest stars have now also popped out of the darkness, while the moon has taken its place in the eastern sky.

I gaze at the heavens in awe of its vastness, and I wonder then if Will is somewhere up there too looking down on me watching him tonight. I wonder if he’s smiling that goofy grin of his.

A few moments go by, and I notice that the blanket of blackness above me had in the meantime sprung thousands of tiny lights, and I catch a glimpse just in time to see a burning star streak across the night sky. Almost by instinct, I close my eyes, then lower my head and silently recite a wish.

When I finish, I open my eyes and cautiously turn my face toward the world above me, and with my creased hands, I press the love letter up against my beating heart one more time and recount his fateful words:

“More than every once in awhile. More than most dreams. More than just my heart. More than anything.”

As I say them, I lean back in my chair and once again close my weary eyes, and in my mind, I am sixteen, and he is just a small-town boy, hoping this small-town girl says yes . And in that moment, there are no hurts, no what-ifs, no regrets. Life is just beginning as a soft, peaceful lull covers the world, butterfly weeds sway their dance in the distance and a soft gust wiggles free a page from my journal and sends my last words tossing around in the wind:

Life didn’t go how I had planned, but I couldn’t have planned a better life. Somewhere in between the beginning and eternity, I fought the war that we all must fight — the journey that in taking, forces us to come face to face with our own realities. My reality was that I was, is and will always be madly and hopelessly in love with you. You are my love of loves, my dream of dreams, my hope of hopes, and I would take the journey all over again because it led me to you, because it’s our story — the story of us.

As for the war, I surrendered.

To my husband, who, if it weren’t for him, this book might still be just pages of black ink tucked away somewhere, long forgotten. I will be forever grateful for your constant support. I love you and am blessed to have you every day in my life.

To my mother, father, sisters and family who were brave enough and patient enough to read the rough draft of my first novel in its entirety and who were kind in their criticisms and ever enthusiastic about my dreams of a stable career in writing.

To those mentors in my life who were passionate in their profession and who taught me that the perfect word is powerful.

And finally, to all those loyal friends along life’s journey who have served as my inspiration and who were never anything but encouraging — even as we fought alongside each other each day to discover our dreams.

To each one of you, Thank you.

Laura Miller grew up in eastern Missouri. She received a Bachelor of Journalism and a minor in sociology from the University of Missouri-Columbia and spent years as a newspaper reporter before starting to write fiction. She currently lives in the Midwest. This is her first novel. You can visit Laura on Facebook or follow her on Twitter.