It is strange to feel so much more like a buttefly, now that I am older, and this girl has ebbed away.  I am sure I look more like a caterpillar every day, all pudgy stripes inching persistently along today’s branch until at last I reach the next leafy snack to munch.  But really, it is losing this girl, and whoever she assumed she was, that unfolded my most tender colors and freed them to glide into the breeze.  Losing her, though – that was hard.