Butterfly Kisses (Fiction)
My dad and I had a nightly ritual. He’d come into my room each night to tuck me in. He’d give me three soft kisses on my cheeks. "That tickles, Daddy!" I’d giggle.
"Most daddies only give their little girls one kiss on the cheek each night. These tickly kisses are called butterfly kisses, Annie. They’re soft, like a butterfly’s wings and besides that, you should consider yourself lucky. You get three kisses every night." He’d tuck the covers around me and turn off the light.
"Don’t forget to leave the door open a little bit and leave the bathroom light on," I’d call. I’d lie in my bed wide awake for a few minutes, feeling the butterflies flying around my cheeks, caressing them with their wings and then they’d fly away as my eyes closed.
One morning, my daddy left for work and didn’t come home. "There was an accident," my mom told me. The butterflies never came back again to visit me at night. Oh how I missed those kisses on my cheeks.
Time passed quickly, as it always does. I married to a fine young man named Brian and was soon expecting our first child. On a warm, spring day, I gave birth to our first child, a girl. We named her Jessica.
The hospital room was on the first floor and after several hours I felt strong enough to get up and sit by the window. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the sky was azure blue. The flowerbeds were full of bright yellow daffodils that were nodding up and down. I watched their delicate petals shimmer in the breeze.
Out of nowhere appeared a butterfly. It was pale green with tiny white dots decorating the wings. It fluttered from flower to flower, its long proboscis dipping into the center of the daffodils to sip its sweet nectar. Suddenly I felt my cheeks tingle. I closed my eyes and felt the butterfly kisses on my cheeks. "Daddy," I whispered.
I felt his lips touching my skin. I heard his words
"Remember my butterfly kisses, Annie. I love you. Take care of little Jessica for me."
I opened my eyes slowly. The butterfly flew up to the windowpane. I put my hand on the glass, reaching for it, but at that moment, Brian came into the room carrying our baby, Jessica. He sat on the bed and I crawled up next to him. The look in his eyes, the look of a father’s love for his daughter, was the same look that my daddy had when he looked at me.
"Give her butterfly kisses," I said. Tears flowed from my eyes. "Every night I want you to give Jessica three butterfly kisses on her cheeks," I pleaded.
"Why sure, honey. I’d love to do that," Brian said, hugging me tightly. He turned and looked down at the baby. "Your daddy loves you, Jessica," he whispered.
"You know, I’ve got a great idea, Annie. Since you suddenly seem to have a fondness for butterflies, well, I’m think I’m going to keep it a secret."
Brian drove Jessica and I home from the hospital. I was so happy to be back in my own house again. We had had spent months working on the nursery and I couldn’t wait to put the baby in her crib. It stood near the window so she could look at on the tulips, crocus and daffodils blooming in the flowerbeds. I carried her into her room and gasped. The whole room was painted a light cream, with pale green butterflies fluttering around daffodils.
"Brian, what have you done?"
He stood behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. "Butterflies," I sobbed. "Brian, how did you know about the green butterfly with the white dots?" I asked.
He laughed and answered, "I’m afraid I didn’t get much sleep while you were in the hospital. I painted a little every night. That day when I caught you looking out of the window in your hospital room, I saw it fluttering about the daffodils and then you said something about butterfly kisses. I just knew it was what I needed to do."
"Thank you," I whispered. I hugged him tightly, wiped the tears from my eyes and put Jessica in her crib. I gazed out the window at the flowers. Just then I saw the butterfly, the same butterfly that was at the hospital, and now the same butterfly that my husband had painted all over Jessica’s nursery walls. It came to visit every day, as long as the weather was warm. I knew it was my dad, watching over my daughter and blowing her butterfly kisses.
(c) 2002 by Margo Fallis
Tucker, GA 30085