There was something about that afternoon on the trail that stayed with me, not just because of the question Sammy asked.

In the months after my Mom passed, yellow butterflies began appearing along our path-sometimes quite literally on the trails we walked.

They lingered longer than expected, sometimes circling for a minute or two, as if their presence were intentional.

Even now, they seem to appear in moments when I need reassurance, and sometimes when I am simply remembering. To me, these yellow butterflies feel like a gentle sign from my Mom.

Signs bring a sense of comfort, connection, and love in ways I can’t always explain. Over time, the yellow butterfly became woven into the heart of my book, a soft symbol of remembrance and the invisible threads that still connect us.