Have you ever wondered if your random acts of kindness really make a difference in this cynical world? I have. And I received an answer from an unusual source.

A few weeks ago, I was walking back to my office following my lunch break. In the middle of the corridor was a large, black, fuzzy caterpillar with brilliant yellow bands encircling his plump body. He was trapped in a place where he did not belong. As he squirmed against the wall, I noticed the response of those who were walking in front of me. Some pretended they did not see him, others shuddered in disgust and looked away. One person raised her foot to squash the creature, but stopped mid-stomp as she realized there would be witnesses to her heinous deed. I gently picked him up, put him in a matchbox which I happened to have in my purse, and went about my business.

After work, I placed him outside in a safe place among the holly bushes away from the birds, so that he could weave his cocoon and perhaps survive. I had not not thought about him until yesterday. My life is simple. With each interaction, I act, respond with kindness, live in the moment, experience to the fullest, then go on to the next event which life presents to me. Sometimes life allows me an encore.

Yesterday, I stood up from my work station and started walking towards the door for my dinner break. I felt the added weight of something on my flower print dress. I could not believe what I saw as I gazed downwards. Firmly attached to my dress, in the middle of a yellow rose, sat a large butterfly. (How he arrived at a third floor, windowless room is still a puzzle to me.) At first, I thought he was dead. There was no movement. But, a flicker of the antennae, a wiggle of a leg, a tremor of the wing told me he was alive and clinging on for safety.

I ceremoniously carried him outside, holding my dress in front of me like a princess in a grand procession, cherishing the kingdom's most precious jewel. Transferring him to my finger, I saw that he was beautiful. His body was jet black with brilliant yellow triangles running down the side of his fuzzy black body. His folded wings were golden mustard in color with six circles of vivid yellow edging his wings. We sat in silent communion with each other. We shared each other's beauty. As he sat, perched upon my finger, I felt only a tiny, almost imperceptible life force remaining in his body. He died in my hands. A gust of wind suddenly developed and carried him away.

Why are the beautifully intimate moments in life so brief? That butterfly was the same caterpillar that I had rescued weeks earlier. There is no doubt in my mind that he returned to say: "Thank you for my life. It was short. But, I experienced it because of your random act of kindness."