How the butterfly got her name
Nadine van Maasakker and Ron Leunissen
The holidays had just started and the children were already enjoying their stay with Nana Lou. After a day full of adventures there was no better ending than to have Nana Lou read a bedtime story. Freshly showered with their nightgowns on, the children sat ready for the next story.
Nana Lou started to tell …
After the old windmill and the butterfly had agreed to share their adventures, the young butterfly looked around and asked the windmill, “what’s that there, is that also a kind of windmill?”
“That’s the house of the miller and his family. They take well care of me and I take care of them by doing my very best when at work for them.”
“That’s good,” said the butterfly, “I’m so curious, would it be okay if I went to have a closer look?” Even before the windmill could answer, the butterfly took off and flew towards the miller’s house.
“Oh well,” laughed the windmill, “I just wanted to ask her whether she already had a name. But we’ll see to that later.”
As the butterfly reached the house, she perched in front of a window and saw the miller and his family sitting at the table. At that moment a car stopped in front of the house. A man, woman and three children got out. The miller opened his door and stepped outside. The butterfly hid herself and kept very quiet.
“Good morning, miller.”
“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” said the miller.
“That’s a long story, but I’ll keep it short.”
The man introduced himself and his family to the miller and told about his grandparents having found refuge in the old windmill during the war.
“That was what saved them”, he said, “and it made my birth many years later possible.”
The man told about his grandfather breaking the silence about the war and telling him all what happened. His grandfather and grandmother survived the war. Other family members weren’t so lucky.
He wanted to see the windmill where his grandparents hid for so long himself and said that he felt very lucky to have found the right windmill after searching for so long.
The little butterfly got curious and came out of her hiding place. She flew towards the little daughter of the man’s family. The girl stretched out her hands and let the butterfly land on her palms.
“Daddy, daddy, can we keep her? She’s so pretty!”
The father looked at the girl and the butterfly with tender eyes and said, “what a special butterfly. She’s so pretty. I would very much like to have her with us and enjoy her beauty. But she must be able to play with the wind and see the world.”
Then the man spoke to the butterfly, “dear little butterfly, this is a special day for us, and it’s not a coincidence that you come to meet us on this day. Giving you a name will make you connected to us forever and will make us remember your beauty. I give you my grandmother’s name, Ziva. She was a beautiful and strong woman. Ziva means radiance, light of god, lofty splendor. This real name of my grandmother was not to be used because it was too dangerous at that time. Only my grandfather used to whisper it when all was save, to remind my grandmother of who she was. Now fly free little Ziva and enjoy all there is to see in the world. Maybe we’ll meet again some day.”
The girl gently stroked Ziva’s wings and gave her a little kiss. Then the wind took the little butterfly and brought it back to the old windmill.
The butterfly was touched by this short yet meaningful adventure. She landed gently on the windmill’s sail.
“You’re back,” said the windmill, “what I wanted to ask you, do you have a name yet?”
“Yes,” said the butterfly, “I’ve got a name, it’s Ziva.”
“I happened to know a Ziva once, that’s a long time ago. She was a very special lady. It was a rough time when she and her husband stayed with us.”
The butterfly told the windmill all that had happened and the old windmill was happy to hear that all had ended well with the woman and her husband.”
“Okay, that’s it little pumkins, off to bed now,” said Nana Lou.
Another great day in Bovine had ended. More adventures yet to come …