In memory of Monarchie

Monarchie was by far one of the best friends I ever had.  When I found him, he was half-eaten and his wings were so torn he could not fly. I took him as a pet and fed him flowers and sugar water. Every night, I put him on the outside of my east-facing bedroom curtains so that he could soak up the morning sun that is so important for a butterfly to keep it's body temperature warm. His wings began to heal, and each day, when I took him outside and held him so that his wings could catch the breeze, he flew a little farther. I took him everywhere with me, when I went shopping he was always clinging to my hair. I got a few funny looks. Each morning, I was awakened when he flew to me and tickled my face. Finally, he got better. He would fly somewhere where I could hardly see him, but he always came back to me. Then, one morning, after I had had him for a month, I woke up and he was sitting on top of my covers. He had died during the night or morning sometime. I tried to keep him for a while, because he was a beautiful butterfly, but that did not work so well. I cried whenever I saw him, so I buried him. That was six years ago. Last fall, I was in Grafton, IL, and by the Illinois river, I found a half eaten monarch butterfly that was dying. He kept trying to fly, but he couldn't. I know how much butterflies love to fly, so I lifted him on my finger and held him high up to be able to catch the breeze that was blowing across the river.  Then he soared across the river, and I watched him until I saw him start to fall. I looked away. I know he probably could not make it across the river and did not want to watch him fall. I will never know for sure if he made it across that river, but in those few moments, he reminded me of one of the best friends I ever had. A friend who was a monarch butterfly.