After my Grandma died Grandpa developed an interest in butterflies. I spent a lot of time with him in those last few years of his life and for that brief, wonderful time in my childhood, when I would go "hunting" for butterflies with my Grandpappy, I felt as though I had a purpose.

"Hunting" is what we would jokingly call butterfly collecting. On any given Saturday we would head out bright and early. The "hunt" would last the better part of the day and often we would return home empty-handed. That was OK because I was spending time with my Grandpa, bonding and laughing.

Occasionally, though, we would spot a specimen that Grandpa deemed worthy and the chase would be on. We would follow the butterfly until the time was just right and only then would we pounce and hurry home with our catch. What fun to marvel at the beauty of it! We would keep it alive and try not to frighten it but eventually Grandpa would have to put it painlessly to sleep and we would add it to our collection in the cellar.

Butterfly was our code for hooker.