This may seem a little off-topic when compared with my other posts, but I felt compelled to share it. This happened during a very emotional time in my life, and is where the story of the butterfly begins.
The day was August 21, 2017, and we were in Gatlinburg for our honeymoon. We had arrived at Smoky Mountain National Park early that morning, despite the fact we didn’t plan adequately enough to have pre-purchased Eclipse glasses. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary for us; we tend to fly through life by the tail of our coats. Even our wedding was planned over the course of about two months. But that day our procrastination paid off – to our luck, we had arrived early enough to purchase a couple pairs for $1 each at the Visitor Center!
After we got our packs in order and picked up the necessary supplies, we set out for our destination. The goal was to reach the zone that would be encompassed in the full eclipse. We had intended to walk, but after being passed by a large volume of cars, we decided it would be best to drive to our preferred location. This was not a decision we would regret.
With our map for guidance we drove off towards the eclipse zone. It took about 20 minutes of breathtaking views, when we came across a creek. Large trees surrounded it with an open area of grass leading up to the water. The sunlight shimmered on the water and it was a cloudless day. We decided this would be a good spot to watch the eclipse. We first sat out on the grass, but as we hadn’t brought a blanket or anything to rest on (as I’ve said, we’re very good at planning), we quickly moved off of the wet grass and towards the rocks. This also presented challenges. Although it felt more private, we were granted with the company of mud wasps and miscellaneous spiders. We found a clear area of rocks to rest our backpack and shoes, and headed out onto the water. There were large boulders out on the water, so we sat on these. We relaxed and searched for rocks. Thankfully, we had brought sunscreen so we tanned rather than burned.
It was a surreal location, the sun warming my face, the water rushing amongst the rocks, the cicadas chirping – being allowed to just take in the serenity of it all. During this time, we also made a friend! I first noticed him sharing the rock with me, drying off his wings. He was just a cute little fellow, not as large as the other few butterflies we’d seen in the area but he seemed very happy to just relax with us.
If any of you have experienced a total eclipse, you know that the temperature starts to drop as it progresses to totality. You know the birds stop singing, the cicadas stop chirping, everything becomes still as night. If not for the spotlight from the sky, and the clocks telling you otherwise, one would believe its so. It’s a very uncanny experience. It’s beautiful and moving, and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. It made me understand, why our ancestors feared their gods.
This is a moment that will stick with me for a number of different reasons. Not only was it a spectacular “once in a lifetime” moment that also happened on my honeymoon – the butterfly was still by our side.
I’ve never been one for religion. I’ve always had unanswered questions, and my mind would not allow me to believe such anecdotes, no matter how hard I tried or wished that I could. I’d also felt uneasy about going on my honeymoon at this time because my grandfather would be buried while we were away. I felt that, although I know he wouldn’t have wanted me to delay our plans, I had failed in some way, and that I was missing my chance to say a final goodbye. This little butterfly brought me an irrational amount of comfort. It made me feel like my grandfather was saying his goodbye to me, and letting me know that it was ok to be happy and enjoy myself on this trip. While it hasn’t changed my stance on religion of spirituality, it’s a small comfort that I will always hold with me.
I haven’t shared this story until now, maybe for fear of my experience being invalidated – more likely for fear of feeling vulnerable.
I took numerous pictures of the butterfly that day, and I’m sure Ryan thought I was silly, as there was nothing exceptional about it. It was an ordinary butterfly, by all accounts. The contentment that its presence extended to me, will always be extraordinary, and something that I’m grateful for.
