The Butterfly and the Bee

I am finding lately that I don't remember a lot of things. Hillary will call and ask for a recipe, and I will say "I've never made that before." Then she will tell me that I made it for her and Frank once. Weird. Leah will remind me of something that we did when we were younger, and I have no idea what she is talking about. I am hoping this memory loss is normal and not something weird. Anyway, all of that just to say that I may have shared this story before and just don't remember.

Notice the enormity of the black butterfly next to the delicate bee. That is no coincidence in this story. My dad once referred to me as his butterfly and Hillary as his bee. I am the butterfly because I am the "flighty" one. I looked up the word flighty, and here is the definition: lacking stability & steadiness, easily upset, easily excited, impulsive, unpredictable. Yes, I can see some of that. I get excited about my ideas and plans, then kind of fizzle and burn. I have lots of 1/2 finished projects. I don't always think things through to the end.

Now, my sister Hillary is the bee. Steady, focused, emotionally stable, doesn't do things impulsively. A true grown-up.

I love the bee. She is my strength and my solace. Thanks, bee, for being my everything.