Mariposas—butterflies—represent both the ancestors who watch over the Garzas on their journey and the sisters’ own collective metamorphosis. The summer the girls embark on their odyssey to Mexico is initially characterized by a surplus of American snout-nosed butterflies in their hometown. The mariposas’ immense numbers recall mythical plagues, signaling to the reader that the world of the story is somewhat magical. Before they return the dead man to his family, the mariposas seem to follow the Garzas, fluttering through their car’s open windows and finding them in the woods after Pita says she misses them. At these moments, the butterflies’ presence affirms that the girls are on the right path—that is, the path that La Llorona insists will heal their family. In the nagual’s cave, the floor is covered in dead mariposas, echoing the perilous situation in which the sisters find themselves. When Odilia calls upon Tonantzin for help, the mariposas resurrect and transform into the goddess herself, solidifying their association with watchful, protective ancestors. Furthermore, characters are sometimes referred to as mariposas—Tonantzin calls Pita “la mas pequeña de mis Mariposas” (“the smallest of my butterflies”), and after new love transforms her, Mamá is “like a butterfly—radiant.” The transformative beauty of the butterflies is here used to emphasize the metamorphosis Mamá and the Garza sisters experience as they rebuild their lives in the wake of Papá’s abandonment. Finally, La Llorona’s own transformation is helped along by the mariposas, who weave themselves into the fabric of her gown just before she ascends into the night sky. At this moment and throughout the sisters’ journey, the mariposas herald great metamorphosis, in which the pain of the past is left behind for a more hopeful future.
Mariposas (Butterflies) Quotes in Summer of the Mariposas
We splashed around in that cold, clear water like river nymphs, born to swim and bathe till the end of days. It was a magical time, full of dreaminess and charm, a time to watch the mariposas emerge out of their cocoons, gather their courage, and take flight while we floated faceup in the water. And that’s exactly what we were doing the morning the body of a dead man drifted into our swimming haven.
“You were chosen for the goodness in your heart,” she explained. […] “Your sister was right when she said finding the body of the drowned man was not an accident.”
She took my hand once again, her touch still deathly cold. Standing beside the hackberry shrubs with hundreds of empty desiccated cocoons still clinging to their branches and a carpet of butterfly corpses under her feet, La Llorona did not look anything like a malevolent specter. She looked more like a tired, heavily burdened woman.
From now on, I would look over my shoulder at every turn. I would make sure I knew who or what was lurking around me, waiting to harm us when we least expected it. For many people in this world were not who they claimed to be, and evil dwelled where you least expected it. It had certainly been that way with Cecilia, the beautiful butterfly who had turned out to be a poisonous wasp.
There were so many of them joining in the dance that soon they moved as one. Their bodies became a collective, a tapestry of wing and wind that fluttered with life, transforming into the figure of a young woman with dark hair and dark eyes. She was dressed in a shimmering tunic of gold and green jade. She looked like an Aztec goddess, but her face was that of a Mexican girl, the face of our many friends and cousins, a teenager, like us.
“You have done well, my daughter. Your migration through the voyage of pain and sorrow has been hard, but you are at the end of your journey. The Ancients have waited a long time for you to emerge, to spread your wings, to take flight. And now, they are ready for you to come home.”
“Only the sun is the alone in the sky,” the Virgen’s voice answered me from beyond the shadows of night. I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel her presence all around me. “I am with you every day. I am the moon, the stars, the sky. I am the river. I am the morning sigh. Remember mi Mariposa pequeña. You are one of many. You are one of us.”
At her words, a swarm of butterflies fluttered out of the hackberry shrubs and flitted around me, dusting me with delight.
In Aaron, Mamá had found a strong heart, and she’d attached herself to the offered hands slowly, cautiously, making sure he was the right man with whom to start a new life. But when she’d emerged from the safety of her cocoon, Mamá was happier and more radiant than we’d ever seen her. In our eyes, she was reborn into beauty—celestial, divine. And we couldn’t be happier for her.
Mariposas (Butterflies) Symbol Timeline in Summer of the Mariposas
