We sat around the table with our dinner guests. The children, six of them between our two families, had long been excused and run off to play. Us adults continued to talk, but were interrupted by a heavenly girl wearing wings.
With a gracious posture and an intent expression, Ella spoke: "Butterflies have wings. Angels have wings. Butterflies are angels."
Then she rose high on her tippy-toes, stretched her wings, and danced across the room.
Ella: my butterfly angel.