Whispers on the Skin

Her name was Lilia. Her smile as wide as her face, with bright eyes. A bit chubby, and so friendly that I honestly don’t remember seeing anything other than her face. Harley, their little white dog, is friends with mine Kaity. We sometimes pass by each other, say hello, and exchange pleasantries. Today when I saw them, the dogs started playfully bickering. I commented on the weather, and then I noticed two cute butterflies tattooed on her ankle.

I said, "What a beautiful tattoo!" She replied, "These butterflies are my mother and me. I got them when I turned fifty. My mother has recently passed away ." Her bright eyes filled with tears. The butterflies on her ankle seemed to dance playfully. Lilia and her mother played together, wrapped in each other's embrace. I wanted to tell her, "Always smile, Lilia, your mother is surely beside you, like a butterfly." But she left, and I forgot to tell her about the five birds tattooed on my shoulder and who they are.

I thought, most people who ink something permanent on their skin have a story, a message, a memory, or a love to share. It's like they’ve etched a story onto their bodies that stays with them forever. Katie and Harley walked together, Lilia and her mother swirled into the September wind, and I was left with my five lonely birds on my shoulder.