懷念祖母的孫女 A granddaughter who remembers her grandmother-Jane

She has long, wavy brown hair and is wearing a simple white summer dress that flows around her as she sits, lost in thought.

2024.03.21

珍是依照她祖母的名字來命名的，祖母在她還是個小孩時就過世了，留給她的是記憶和故事。其中一個故事是關於一個秘密花園，那裡有著透明翅膀的蝴蝶在飛舞，給那些在花間尋求慰藉的人帶來安慰。據說，如果你對一隻玻璃翼蝴蝶低語許願，你的話語就能傳達給那些不再與你同在的人。

現在，珍發現自己在她自己的秘密花園裡，這是一個她為了紀念祖母而培育出來的綠洲。隨著每一株她種下的植物和每一朵開放的花朵，她感到自己與那個曾經為她把世界編織成故事的女人更接近了。

在紀念她祖母過世的週年之際，珍坐在她的花園裡，她的心沉重著未說出口的話語和未共享的回憶。這時，她注意到了一隻獨特的蝴蝶，它的翅膀如此清晰，幾乎是看不見的，除了像精緻的玻璃彩繪中的鉛線那樣輪廓分明。

想起了那個古老的故事，珍閉上眼睛，將她的渴望輕聲傾訴於寧靜之中。她談論著愛與思念，感激與未講的故事。當她睜開眼睛時，蝴蝶靜靜地停在她的手指上，無畏且靜止。

那一刻，珍感受到了祖母的愛如同柔和的披肩圍繞著她。蝴蝶起飛了，珍看著它在花間起舞，它的翅膀捕捉著光芒，將她的訊息帶到需要去的地方。她不知道那些故事是不是真的，但在她的心中，輕盈感開始萌生。

玻璃翼蝴蝶的造訪是短暫的，但它的影響是長遠的。珍的花園不僅僅是一種致敬；它是一座橋樑，一個過去與現在之間的隔幕變薄的地方，在那裡，她暫時感受到了一個故事甜蜜擁抱變成現實。

The image was blurred, but in the midst of the haze, one could make out the form of a butterfly with wings like amber glass. It reminded Jane of a tale her grandmother once told her, about the Glasswing Butterfly who carried messages between the living and the world beyond.

Jane had been named after her grandmother, who had passed when she was just a child, leaving her with memories and stories. One such story had been about a secret garden where butterflies with translucent wings fluttered, bringing comfort to those who sought solace among them. It was said that if you whispered a wish to a Glasswing, your words would reach those who were no longer with you.

Now, Jane found herself in her own secret garden, an oasis she had cultivated in memory of her grandmother. With every plant she potted and every flower that bloomed, she felt closer to the woman who had spun the world into stories for her.

On the anniversary of her grandmother's passing, Jane sat in her garden, her heart heavy with words unsaid and memories unshared. That’s when she noticed a singular butterfly, with wings so clear they were nearly invisible, save for the veins that traced like delicate lead in stained glass.

Remembering the old tale, Jane closed her eyes and whispered her longing into the quiet. She spoke of love and of missing, of gratitude and stories untold. When she opened her eyes, the butterfly was perched upon her finger, unafraid and still.

In that moment, Jane felt the warmth of her grandmother's love wrapping around her like a soft shawl. The butterfly took flight, and Jane watched it dance among the flowers, its wings catching the light, carrying her message wherever it needed to go. She didn’t know if the tales were true, but in her heart, a lightness took hold.

The Glasswing's visit was brief, but its impact was enduring. Jane’s garden was more than a tribute; it was a bridge, a place where the veil between past and present grew thin, and for a moment, she could feel the sweet embrace of a story come to life.

My Name is Jane.