I’m sat working in my home studio office and all I can hear is a very quiet tapping. I’m not sure if I’m imagining it. Tap tap tap. Tap tap. It’s a cold early winter morning. The sun has been out but dew is still all over the garden.
Tap tap tap. I definitely hear it. I turn around to look at the butterfly sculpture on my windowsill that I made studying at art college.
My best friend’s solar-powered watch sits on top of the sculpture. It’s been fifteen winters since I saw him last. A part of me isn’t sure if the morning silence just amplifies the tick tick of his watch.
Tap tap tap. I hear it again. As I turn the sculpture around I can’t believe my eyes. In the most perfect condition is a Peacock butterfly and I’m stunned.
A few days ago I printed some novelty bank notes and one is sitting on my desk staring back at me. I blurt out, “I can’t believe this!” even though no one’s listening.
It’s caught in a small spider web at the bottom of the sculpture and I gently help the butterfly out of it. While it’s on my hands, I pick up the bank note and sit both of them on my hand.
I shout down to my daughter, “Quick, come and look at this!” She’s as amazed as I am.
I’m not sure how long it’s been there. Did it hatch in the room or fly in through the window?
All I know is it’s tired and cold and can’t fly well, so I warm it up by leaving it in the sun in the garden. It starts vibrating its wings. Opening and closing its wings. In the sunlight it’s even more pristine than when it was indoors.
I want to make sure it’s OK but can’t stand here all day. So I return to work. When I go into the garden to check up on the butterfly, the flower I left it on smiles at me and the tap tap tap is just a whisper on the breeze as a memory I’ll remember forever.
Steph, I love you, bro.
