After the Fury, Before the Storm

"The world don't change. Not for nobody. 'Specially you." I can still hear my mawmaw croaking those words. I didn't know what that meant. Surely the world does change. Over time though, I saw. The world don't change, it's all about how you see it.

On October 2nd, something rose up in me. Something in the woods made it all the way up my chest and started thumping. So, I ran to it. I sprung from my lawn chair and strode off down the trails we'd like to make – through the briars and all that. I was brother free this time though. He lay peacefully under a clump of dirt beneath the oak tree where our old tire swung. I glanced at the grave as I passed, as I always do.

I cracked sticks under my soles and snapped branches with my elbows, stumbling over logs. It felt like I was running out of time. I stubbed my toe on one of them big, jagged rocks that like to be proud and stand on its fellows. I yelped and fell to a pile of leaves, wrapped my fingers around the wound, and waited and winced until the tingling felt normal. During the time that I sat there, I got to thinking. I thought about Dad and what Mamaw had said about him. She said he was a bad bad man who left my mama to run away with some skank. She said he was evil and in-con-sid-er-ate. He didn't give two licks about me. I imagined him as the devil – red scales, wings, horns, and all. I always ended up thinking about him more than Mama. I don't remember them at all if I'm being honest. Apparently, Dad left when I was born, and Mom died about a year after that. Guess I wasn't worth the trouble for either one.

Mawmaw talks about Mama like she was an angel. She had pretty, pale skin that sparkled with the heatwaves, soft brown hair that came down to her belly button, and big green eyes that liked to twinkle with the stars. That's what I'm told anyway. I can't really picture her all too well. I kind of just see a bright figure with a fuzzy face. But like I said, I don't get to thinking about her like I do my dad. I guess the devil's just more interesting than the angel.

While I was caught up in thought and tending to my toe. I felt something creeping on my shoulder. I don't like crawly stuff, so any other time, I'd swat it away before thinking, but I couldn't take my hands off my throbbing toe. I peeked at my shoulder and saw a black bug with wings. The wings were dark and edged with blue. It took me longer than it probably should have to realize it was a butterfly. I tried not to stare at it, thinking it would gouge one of my eyes out if I gave it the wrong look. She just sat there, though, swaying.

After the pain got tolerable, I put my hands against the dirt behind me as slowly as possible, trying not to disturb my little friend. She wasn't that scary. I remembered reading something about butterflies, but I didn't believe it. Mawmaw and I went to the doctor cause I stepped on a nail, and we were sitting in that waiting room for forever. In them God-awful chairs, I snatched one of the magazines that sit on those coffee tables. I flipped it open and saw the exact same butterfly that was on my shoulder on the page. It said it was Mississippi's state butterfly. I guess I'm pretty lucky to see one. But, what I couldn't imagine was that butterflies came from those little green worms on trees. How is someone gone say that they make a bundle of stuff and sit there for a while and then come out with wings? Yeah right.

In the middle of my recollection, the butterfly shuffled down my arm, seemed to look up at me, and took off. I watched her fly through the trees toward the bottom. Now disoriented, I had no real clue as to where I was initially running toward. After some chin scratching, I decided that it was where the butterfly went: Becker Bottom.

Becker Bottom is the runoff of the ole Tombigbee River that ran slap through Becker and out toward Aberdeen. I guess it's called the bottom cause you got to go down some hills to get to it. And, there's a boat ramp someways up the creek from where me and Mamaw stay. My brother and I used to run along the side of it every day. That is until the truancy officers came knocking. In some ways, the bottom got more magical since we had to play hooky to spend time in it. I thought going to school was bad, but not having him stand at the mailbox with me each morning kind of hurts a little extra. And, going down to the bottom just made me think about him more and more.