I can remember when I was younger how I wanted to fly. Not so much in a plane, but be able to spread my own wings like a bird and fly. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to realize that wings, while they can get you a lot of places are pretty fragile.
Butterflies, like the one here I took a picture of earlier this afternoon, have a double problem. They have ultra-fragile wings and they have to contend with the wind that can fling them about without remorse.
Sometimes I feel like the butterfly and sometimes like an eagle in life. Sometimes I glide through the air with assurance and purpose, and other times it’s fluttering along hoping a breeze doesn’t blow me completely off course.
