Damn Butterflies

She lived across the street from us. Terry was born in South Austin in 1933 and bought her house when she married Bill. They raised two kids there and when we met her she was a widow living alone, her adult children were long grown. Our older tree-lined neighborhood was an Austin treasure with houses built in the early 60’s. It used to be that the only way to buy a house there was when someone died. We got our house because the previous owner moved to a nursing home.

We kept an eye on all the elders in our neighborhood. Terry’s house once flooded. She had a dry creek behind her yard that turned out not to be so dry one spring downpour. Lisa built a French drain to channel the water away from her house. That was the only time she asked for help. She was an independent old coot and we loved her.

My favorite story about Terry was her love for a pink flowering vine called Queen’s Wreath that grew on the side of her house. The butterflies also loved it and gravitated to its sweet nectar. The trouble was, when the butterflies lighted on the flowers, the petals fell off. One day I came upon Terry muttering, “damn butterflies” as she shood them off her beloved flowers.

A neighbor found Terry unconscious in her carport one day. Her car door was open so she was clearly about to run errands. Her head was bleeding. We never saw her again. Her children whisked her away. We didn’t have a relationship with them and we got complacent. The time for Terry to make her own decisions had run out.

Some time afterward there was a flurry of activity at her place. A couch was carried to the curb. Lisa inquired and was gifted the couch. They were emptying out her house to sell it. Terry was living with her daughter.

We knew the couch was brand new. It took days of airing and scrubbing. Terry also had a big floofy white cat. We still have the couch. As a matter of fact I’m sitting on it right now. Luna gives up her spot now and then.

One day I was thinking about Terry and found her obituary. It made me sad yet brought back good memories. And whenever we find ourselves complaining about some inconsequential thing, we remember “damn butterflies” and think of Terry and smile.

DOS TORTAS

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