Sylvie, my amazing writer in the fifth grade

Butterflies
By Sylvie Bodine

It was a cold October day. A chill ran down my spine making my insides jerk and shiver. The leaves on the trees glimmered bright with their radiant color. The deep shades of red,  fluorescent orange, and the bright rays of sunshine in yellow made my eyes pop. Though I was not happy, not one bit. Two days ago, my Great Aunt Bonnie died.It had hit so quick and suddenly that we had to slam hard on the brakes.She was one of the nicest people in the world. She would always give me great gifts and presents, and her kindness was the tenderness the type such  that seemed to last forever, but I guess I was wrong. And before she died, she had given me the most beautiful butterfly garland. It was blue, her favorite color, the wings so dainty, sitting pretty about my bed.

“Time to go,” my mother called down from the kitchen below.  Her voice did not sound like hers. Instead it was drenched, almost spoken through with sadness. We were going to the Botanical Gardens, for their Day of the Dead fest. It was one of the most pretty celebrations, of course it wasn't the real thing, but it was just like it.

When we arrived, we stood in line. It was long, but we made it through. We were supposed to meet up with my moms friend and her daughter and son , but since they won't there we waited in the lobby. We started to meander around. Just then we stopped at a fluorescent colored room were butterflies covered the walls, their eminence in beauty obvious.  I couldn't take my eyes off of them.

“Wow,” my mom said.

Suddenly my eyes were drawn to a sign beside the butterflies. It read, For thousands of years butterflies have been a symbol in Day of the dead. It is said that each butterfly represents a spirit of the dead. Also, their arrival coincides with one of Mexico's most popular holidays, Dia de Los Muertos, Day of the Dead.

  I looked up into my moms glossy eyes filled with sadness and said,” I bet she is flying with all of her other butterfly friends at this moment.” 

She slowly nodded her head up and down, and said,”we can only hope”

A few minutes later,my mom's phone rang out, echoing off of the wall. She looked down at it a text message had been sent.It was from my grandma, who’s brother was married to Bonnie. There on the screen, words appeared. It read, I found this in my garden today, look at how beautiful.  

And on the screen cupped in her wrinkled hands was a beautiful blue butterfly.