Introduction from Linear Light from the Ivory Tower

What Are Orange and Black Butterflies?

Monday, April 16, 2001, was a day I will never forget, not only because it was the day after Easter, but also because it was the worst day of my life.

I was working second shift at a job I hated. As usual, I was rapidly shucking returned jewelry from raggedy, cardboard gift boxes and checking them for defects before shipping them back out. At least my favorite music, Eighties and Classic Rock, was blaring overhead, albeit the buzzing, clicking, and banging of machinery drowned most of it out.

The only reason I took that crummy job, was that I was new in Cincinnati. My beau and I moved from Atlanta around January. I was so eager, after years of countrywide exploration, to settle down somewhere new. Besides, he was from Cincinnati, so it was just going home for him. We hit the road for a change in life, and never looked back. The one thing I regretted leaving behind in Georgia was my mother.

My mother was truly more than a mother to me. She was my best friend. She was an intelligent, eccentric woman. She had so many talents, and my younger brother and I were talented just like her-SMILE. She was free-spirited and big on self-expression. My brother and I were born and raised Wiccan, as that was my mother's religion of choice for as long as she could remember. Imagine my awkwardness growing up African-American and Pagan when all my friends were Christians. Then again, imagine my frustration loving Classic and Modern Rock when all my friends liked Rap and R & B. I would NOT change my experiences growing up for anything in the world! It made me the open-minded person that I am today.

Thinking about my mother that night at work, I was wiling away the ten-hour shift. The previous day was Easter, and I was thinking about how much I missed spending holidays with my mother. I did not get to call her, as I was preoccupied and time slipped away from me. I mailed her a card, but I was quite certain she had not received it yet.

Suddenly, literal "music to my ears" struck my soul like thunder. "Dog and Butterfly" by Heart began to play. My mother used to sing that song to me when I was a child. During that song, I felt a peaceful, spiritual link to my mother, yet I was uncontrollably misty-eyed. I discretely excused myself from my workstation and went to the bathroom to contain my tears. I closed my eyes and saw an enormous orange-and black butterfly in my mind. I ran from the bathroom to my workstation and continued with my nightly duties.

On the way home, I could not shake the image of the butterfly. My beau could clearly tell I was upset. Upon him asking me what was wrong, I replied, "I'm having the strangest feeling. I can't explain what it is, or why. Something has happened..."

As we entered our small apartment, I noticed the message light quickly flashing on the answering machine. I dropped my gear, ran over, and pushed play. I heard my great uncle and brother's voices sadly say, "NoShell, call us when you get in. It doesn't matter what time it is..." Needless to say, I called immediately with the image of the butterfly still fluttering in my mind.

Once I received the horrible news that my mother passed away earlier that very day from a blood clot in her leg that moved up to her lung, I coiled on the ground with grief. Not MY mother! She was so young, only 46! There was so much did not get to do together. She did not have any grand kids! It was her dream to go to Canada, and I wanted to take her! She had not published her poetry books yet! My brother had not graduated from high school! I could go on for hours... And of course, I asked the cliché questions: Goddess, WHY!? Our family is already so small. Why didn't you take me instead? Why my mother? Why now? Why are you so cruel! Sheryl Denise Williams-born several minutes after Christmas and died several hours after Easter. Damn, that explained my hearing that song and the vision of the butterfly...