###Chapter 5 - Butterfly Effect

August 7, 2019

Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest, Price County, Wisconsin

The sun was shining, but like most mornings in northern Wisconsin its rays had yet to warm the world around me after a chilly summer night. Even in August, nights in the Northwoods typically called for a sweatshirt – at times even a parka.

I left the house not long after breakfast, telling my dad I would be back soon. I wanted to walk a nearby trail through the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest for a moment alone to clear my head.

This was my first trip to see my dad since my 10-year, toxic relationship had ended. My dad had loved him like a son. But then, dad didn’t hear the awful things he said to me or see how I crumpled when he gaslighted and bullied me. To my dad, he was the perfect son-in-law to be.

“Watch out for bears,” my dad said, half joking as I tied my shoes to leave. Then he turned back to the TV.

CNN was covering the latest mass shooting to rattle the core of our nation. Four days prior, a gunman had walked into a Walmart in El Paso, Texas and killed 23 people and injured dozens more.

Wolf Blitzer cautioned, “We want to warn our viewers – what we’re about to show you is disturbing.”

Shaky video of the injured or dying lying motionless in what looked like it could have been any Walmart parking lot in America played across the screen over… and over… and over. Even though the bodies were blurred in the video – the magnitude of the tragedy unfolding on the news was a lot to take in, as was the reality that these days in America, at any time any day of the week your life could end violently while just running into a store to buy milk.

I quickened my pace. Pea gravel crunched under the soles of my shoes as I turned off the asphalt road and hit the trail. The cool morning air stung my lungs in a way that made me acutely aware of my breath and the lifeforce pulsing through my limbs, heartbeat echoing in my ears.

I had only been walking briskly a mile or so when a butterfly stopped me in my tracks. It sat peacefully in the middle of the trail sunning its wings. The night had been too cold, and the magnificent creature needed to bask in the sun awhile before it could fly. The wings slowly lifted and gently dropped back down.

I crouched to snap a picture as the ornate orange wings idly oscillated without concern for me or anything else, save for finding the warmth and the will to rise once again into the blue sky above. I sat down, cross-legged on the gravel just to watch. Perhaps I subconsciously wanted to protect it from any potential predators who might not see the beauty of the butterfly – and would instead see an easy breakfast; but I was also entranced by its vulnerability.

Wings flapped wildly for an instant and then the butterfly took flight. It rose and flew near my face which made me gasp in surprise and then giggle. I stood, shading my eyes from the sun as the wings rose high above me, a silhouette in blue, and disappeared into a grove of paper birch. My colorful friend had left me with a sense of awe. Despite the many dangers nature presents, the butterfly carries on with life. It is not afraid to flash its bright colors in a world where unseen predators lurk all around.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes letting the sunshine warm my face. Then, I walked on. There wasn’t another soul on the trail the rest of the way aside from a couple of ruffed grouse that skittered across my path flushed out of the brush by my footfall. I meandered through the woods slowly soaking up the day. When I completed the loop, I headed back to my dad’s. "How’d it go?” dad asked. CNN was still on, and it was nearly time for lunch. “Fine,” I said. “It’s a beautiful morning.”