Hope and Possibility

It was an absolutely unbelievable morning as I walked along the trail in Iguazu: the sun shining, the sky an amazing shade of blue, a series of rainbows splayed haphazardally across the crashing cascade of the waterfalls; no words come to mind to describe their beauty, their power. . .

I was filled with an overwhelming sensation of something as I walked along, happiness maybe, though I can´t be sure exactly. As I walked along in the early morning, a coolness to the day that wouldn´t last much longer, I began to do what I often do when I am by myself, I write. Clearly not on paper, but when I find myself alone; especially if I am running or walking, all of a sudden, parts of stories, poems, letters, essays etc. begin to form in my head. I can´t help myself. So yesterday as I´m walking along, a story pops into my head about how I have fallen in love. It went something like this, "I think I´m in love. Her name is Possibility." Silly I know. But in the moment, that´s how I felt. So there I am walking along, my head filled with words, the path filled with trees, flowers, the sound of the waterfalls crashing in the background, and tons of butterflies. Hundreds of butterflies, big ones, small ones, and of every color imaginable. And all of a sudden, out of no where, this butterfly lands right on my chest. She´s there looking up at me, her bird like face seeming almost to smile, her green wings opening and closing with the beat of my heart.

"Possiblity?" I whispered and she crawled up my shirt to where the collar ended and my skin began, her antennae tickling my chest. I had stopped dead in my tracks when she landed on me afraid to disturb her, but now I began to make my way down the path, talking softly to her as I walked. "You don´t have to stay here," I explained smiling down at my new found friend. But Possibility didn`t seem to have any hurry to leave my salty chest as she continued poking around with her long, delicate, green antennae. Her wings fluttered as the wind picked up but she held tight and on we walked.

I stopped to take out my camera and took her picture, careful not to touch her wings, not to disturb her. And then just like that, she took off, joining the others. She flew a few feet down the path and landed on the ground next to an enormous black butterfly with bright purple wings.

I gasped. There she was, Hope. I took a step closer, camera still in hand, thinking I could photograph her too, but apparently she was in a hurry, and flitted off into the jungle leaving me alone on the path.

I stood there for a few minutes, the trees swaying softly in the morning breeze, shifting patterns of light playing on the trail. I watched as a monkey and her baby swung in the branches of the trees above me, an iguana made its way across the path followed by a family of coaties, their long noses and striped tails waggling as they crossed in front of me. I stood motionless in the jungle. Alone on the path once again, I slowly let out my breath and continued on to the next waterfall.