Butterfly Lane.

There is a road.

Barely a road.

It courses through the Catskill mountains, near Hancock, NY. It has a few names. Peas Eddy Road. Newman Road.

It's made of dirt and gravel. Very few people ever drive it. It is barren, and cuts through some of the most beautiful country you have ever seen.

On one side of the road is a mountain stream. At some points it is 40 or more feet below the road. There are no guardrails. On the other side are hillsides. Rising at times almost sheer, 60 feet about the road.

In many areas, the hillsides are ripe with flowers.

And that brings the butterflies.

Basking in the sun, the flit from one flower to another.

In days gone by.

My young children, my former wife and I would visit there, when we vacationed at the cabin and the lake. Just a few short miles away.

We'd park at an intersection. Not that you would really know it as such. Two roads meeting where nobody ever drove. In the middle of nowhere.

The hillside was wet with spring water that flowed from the mountain. The plants were in bloom. And my children and I would marvel at the butterflies. The dragonflies.

We'd chase them with makeshift nets. Trying to capture the Great Spangled Fritillaries. The Sulphurs. The Monarchs. We'd get a few, take them back to the cabin. Examine them. I'd sketch them. Then we would let them free.

That was almost 20 years ago now.

Since then, my marriage is long over. The kids are grown.

In the last couple of years, I finally returned to the cabin I called home.

And I went to Butterfly Lane.

This time, armed with cameras. Ready to capture the scenes and the gorgeous insects we enjoyed there as a family, so long ago.

I pull my car to the side, and get out. I close the door.

The only sounds I hear are those of the wind. The water running past me in the creek below.

No children. No loving wife.

Just me. My cameras. And a lifetime of memories.

It almost brings me to my knees.

To see this place we all so loved.

When hope was still alive. When the future lay out before us with promise.

The fun. The laughter. The love of a family, sharing the beauty of nature.

I struggle to my feet.

The tears stream down my cheeks.

And I point my camera at the butterflies. The dragonflies. The flowers.

My heart breaks.

And I hit the shutter. I capture what I see. Gorgeous butterflies. Beautiful scenes.

And with every shot I take, I yearn for that future that was not to be.

I stand there sobbing with the best pictures I have ever taken.

With my gut wrenching from the memories.

Because I just cannot yield.

Those days are long gone. And the hope that was went with them.

I stand in this place, alone.

And I scream at the top of my lungs.

Without making a sound.