Butterflies are fragile and almost defenseless creatures but rely on a variety of strategy to protect them, blending into their environment so well it is almost impossible to detect them.    I learned early about pain and loss but my ability to take wing became my major defense.

My father, an intellectual, arrived as a young man from Austria with a portfolio of plays, poetry and short stories.   He spent his life in search of a dream to become a great writer that did not materialize.   My quiet small mother was born in a small village in Hungary and she gave me the freedom to explore the world.  Her warmth was my mainstay.   In her eyes I could do no wrong.  My silent melancholy father rarely talked.  I grew up in a home where conversation was restrained and I found myself doing all the talking.   It became the norm but I desperately needed to hear sound even if it was only coming from my own lips.

My brother, Morton, was an intelligent,  composed gray eyed boy who also had a dream but death at the age of fourteen killed the dream and left me to grow up alone and lonely.   I remember visiting Morton in the hospital as he lay foaming at the mouth in a coma.   My life was never again the same.   I was ten years old.

I was friendly but had no real friends.    I was lonely but did not spend much time alone.   The beginning of my life was with no road map, no directions only following the scent of excitement, adventure and love.   Watching a butterfly zigzag aimlessly across the meadow on a sunny morning, it could easily be taken for nature’s most carefree vagabond – unhurried, unburdened, and even a little ditzy.   But butterflies are purposeful, aggressive, sexually driven and smarter than most people think.

This is the beginning of the book and seems to be necessary since it is basically a memoir.   This introduces my family; then it can continue with the first chapter which you included.

"In the Beginning".