I caught you long ago and held you as you flapped your wings inside my cupped hands. You getting ready to fly - me supporting you as you did. And then one day, the beating grew stronger, the sting more acute as you fought to soar.
So I opened my hands, and away you went.
I have been watching you fly from where I stand on the graveled road; from the place you last walked with me. I have been proud of the circles you make in the sky; of the applause of all the other butterflies as they adore you.
But know this. I will still be watching even when you are too far to see. Here where I am - on the ground.