I don’t know if what I relate here was true or just a dream. All I know is that at 3.55 am, I woke and tried desperately to find the truth. It is situated in and around the land of Ukraine. Russia and Ukraine, in my dream, are just a matter of seconds away from finding peace. Before they do that, they have to solve one tricky problem. Before that, they have to bring home their injured soldiers. Josiph is injured and waiting to return home to his dying wife and a lonely daughter, Mayia. Both in Russia, Ukraine and countries close to the conflict, people are praying that the two antagonists will reach out to their wounded and prepare to sign up for peace. Mayia is praying, perhaps more than anyone else, that her father will return to her dying mother. Mayia’s greatest joy is enjoying the sun in their garden, especially with the butterflies dancing around them. Their favourite is a recently born butterfly, with silky white wings, all dotted with colours of the rainbow, specs that really shine both in the sunshine and the darkness of the night. They christened the baby butterfly Mila. I don’t know why or what the significance. Just as they finished saying their prayers for their father’s safe return in the fading light of the parting sun, Mila cracks a wing and what seems to be her dying moments, Mila comes to rest on Mayia’s arm. Later that night, long after her mother has gone to bed, Mayia opens her sewing box, pulls out a tiny bottle of healing wax, heals Mila’s broken wing and lets her out into her favourite rose bush.
I cannot describe what happened the next day. All I
know is that Mayia’s mother passed away, a tiny smile clinging to her mouth.
She lived long enough for Mayia to hold and caress her in her arms. Sadly, word
came that Mayia’s father had also passed away in the dead of night.
I don’t know what became of Mayia, but I am sure it
has something to do with butterflies and gardens full of flowers, especially
roses. However, very sadly, neither woman got to see the father and husband alive.
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