When my mom was in her last week, she told my sister she'd come back as butterflies. (Of course, I don't believe in that.)

At the time, there was a single sprig of milkweed near my mailbox. Since then, the milkweed has exploded.

I can't bring myself to trim it back, because every time I look at the milkweed I think of my mother's statement. Of course, it's magical thinking on my part.