just call me "savior."

I first saw him about 2 months ago.
Crouched down next to a heap of dirty laundry. I didn't want to disturb him, but he made me feel uncomfortable. I hestitated before turning to leave, and walked away knowing it was the right thing to do.
Everyday for the following weeks, I could sense his presence. He wasn't going to sneak up on me, I knew that. But I wondered if I would ever see him again.
***
Lifeless.
At first I thought she was dead. I felt completely helpless, probably the same way she did before she died. I could almost hear her crying for help.
La Mariposa.
I quickly walked past her frail black and yellow body, hoping no one had witnessed such a shameful interaction.
***
This morning, he came back into my life. It was as though he'd perched there all night, quietly waiting for me. Now he was nervous, anticipating, scared.
I was scared, too.
I looked at him for a long time, while wiping the sleep out of my eyes. I needed to decide what to do about him--and fast.
So I went to the kitchen cupboards, pulled out a small, clear drinking glass and a blank sheet of paper.
***
I opened the back door to look for her after several minutes, probably driven by guilt. I spotted her only a few feet away. Her fragile wings caught the sun's earliest rays, as she lay barely moving on the gritty cement sidwalk.
I wanted to save her. But how?
El Jardin.
The only two words I know in Spanish: they belonged together.
If she was surely going to die, she was going to do it with some dignity, atop a bouquet of healthy purple blossoms. Not under the boot of some aloof, ignorant tourist.
I scooped her up, and laid her gently in the garden to spend the rest of her life surrounded by the beauty of nature.