The Garden Gate

Mandy waited, silent and motionless, watching the garden gate. She knew if she watched long enough, something magical would happen. She had witnessed the magic once. Awed and stunned at the spectacular sight, she had stood transfixed, staring until the beautiful twirl dissipated.

She had kept vigil at the gate every day for the last two weeks, hoping to catch another glimpse of the magic within. So far, her patience had not been rewarded. She was nothing if not persistent, however, so vowed to come back every day until her wish was fulfilled.

"Mandy!"

Backing slowly out of the bushes she was hiding in, Mandy made her way down the garden path toward her mother. "Yes, Mum," she whispered, not wanting to break the silence and ruin whatever chance the night held for magic.

"There you are," he mother called.

"Shhh," Mandy ordered, grabbing her mother's arm and leading her farther away from the garden gate. "Don't talk so loud."

"What's the matter with you?" her mother asked, pulling up short.

"Nothing is the matter, Mum. I'm just waiting on the magic to happen again."

Sighing heavily, her mother said, "Not that again." Shaking her head, she added, "You know there is no such thing as magic, Mandy. We've been all over this."

Mandy was adamant, "I'll show you," she said, tugging on her mother's hand, trying to lead her back up the path. "You just have to be quiet," she whispered. "It won't happen unless it's quiet."

"Mandy," her mother sighed, "Forget this nonsense and come to dinner."

"Please, Mum," Mandy pleaded, "come see for yourself."

Her mother started to refuse, but the imploring look in Mandy's eyes stopped her. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "why not," and allowed her daughter to pull her along.

Mandy guided her around the bend in the path and into the bushes. Once there, she put her finger to her mouth, reminding her mother to be quiet, and pointed at the garden gate.

Her mother looked at the gate. She had to admit the flowering vines covering the garden gate were whimsical, and viewed in a certain light, might lead an impressionable girl with a vivid imagination to believe in magic. While contemplating the possibilities, she was startled by a sudden burst of movement amongst the orange trumpet blossoms.

"Oh, my," she breathed. "How beautiful."

The two watched, mesmerized, while a multitude of butterflies flew in and around the flowers. Before Mandy could stop her, her mother took a tentative step forward. The movement disturbed the butterflies, which formed a cloud of wings, twirled upward and disappeared.

Mandy smiled when she heard her mother whisper, "magic," as they watched the last butterfly flutter away.