A yellow butterfly flutters and lands on the dedication sign for the forest green bench.

Mother sits on the bench, handkerchief in hand, wiping the tears from her eyes.

For weeks, Mother has been angry at me, ignoring me almost completely.

Mother looks over and mutters my name, “Sarah.”

I look up grinning, maybe she isn’t mad anymore, I return to playing in the sand.

A distant woman calls mother’s name, “Mrs. Dennis.”

I notice the butterfly. Standing up and tip-toeing, with ghostly quiet I sneak up on it.

The woman approaches mother, stops nearby, holding out a bouquet of flowers. My heart hurts, but mother prefers adults since she has been mad… or sad.  Tears flow from mother’s eyes as she accepts the flowers and bunches them together with the ones she is already holding.

I look away and focus on the butterfly as it crawls along the brass sign.

“I am so sorry,” the woman looks around. “At least they have cleaned the place up and made it safer.

“I must go, but I will try to come by later.”

The woman turns without needing an answer and walks away, her head hanging.

Mother stands and turns toward the dedication sign, noticing the butterfly for the first time. She sighs and lays the flowers gently near the sign.

Sarah reaches out to catch the butterfly, her hands passing right through it.

As mother and I walk away, I reach out to catch the butterfly, but my hands pass through it, as if it were a ghostly projection. The butterfly flutters away from the dedication sign, “In Honor of Sarah Dennis, may her soul rest.”