Sky Full of Butterflies
By: Jenn Todling
Six months after leaving my husband Morey, I dug my heels into the cold sand as I watched the sky change colors in front of me, this time from a different continent. It was my first solo adventure abroad traveling as a single woman. I didn’t want to miss out on a chance to see the world, so when an opportunity came up with my accounting firm to travel to Australia and the Great Barrier Reef exactly one year after my grand European adventure with my sister Rose—which had been the beginning of everything new—I jumped at the chance to flex my newfound independence.
Since none of my friends or family were able to make it this time, I was adventurous and booked the most creative hotel I could find to enjoy after my business meetings were done. That’s how I found myself peering out the window of a small propeller plane and gazing down on a sea of green as I and a few other adventurers were ferried from Brisbane to Bargara Beach, Australia. The flight attendant made her way down the aisle offering a complimentary light snack and a cocktail. I was surprised to find that Down Under, even on this little prop plane, the amenities were excellent. After a short hop, the plane made a screeching halt on a too-short runway and I took a deep breath, ready for some magical adventures.
Driving through the town of Bargara Beach barely took a few minutes. There was a small grocery store offering a few provisions for tourists, but not much else. I stepped out of my cab and inhaled a giant gulp of humid, salty air. I entered my hotel room and turned on some fluorescent lights, which buzzed as if there was a bee trapped inside. The atmosphere was bleak and sterile with a linoleum floor, a small TV, and a coffee maker.
Sitting on the hard, narrow bed, I opened the travel journal I had bought in Sydney and documented my first day of solo travel. The first word that came to mind was “lonely,” and I couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness in my gut. Was it a mistake to embark on this journey alone? The contrast between this hotel and the suite I’d just left in Brisbane made me doubt my decision to come here. This was so far removed from the previous Christmas, with my sister and all that Victorian splendor and the City of Lights. But I reminded myself that I had chosen adventure, and what’s an adventure with out some discomfort? I took a few sips of the Bundaberg Ginger Beer I’d collected from the plane and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I was up at 6:00 a.m. to take the local bus tour from the town of Seventeen Seventy to Lady Musgrave Island. After nearly two hours of careening through rolling hills with an overcast sky hovering above us and threatening our good time, we arrived at the boat dock. Afraid of getting motion sick, I took a Dramamine and boarded a small craft that sat about twenty passengers. I looked over the side of the boat and could nearly touch the water if I really tried. As we pulled away from shore, huge waves crashed around us, and I found myself rocking back and forth as if I were the ball in a Ping-Pong game. I took another Dramamine just in case and gripped the handles, hoping to stay afloat. The pounding waves continued.
“Are you okay?” our guide asked as she approached me looking concerned. “You look like you’re about to get sick.” She handed me a brown paper bag.
“I just took some Dramamine, so I should be okay,” was all I could muster, although I kept the bag close, just in case.
“Dramamine only works if you take it before we depart. It makes motion sickness worse if you use it while moving,” she told me.
I knew I should have read the box. Oh well. It’s an adventure, I thought as I hurled into the brown bag too many times to count.
Nearly two hours later, the waters quieted and the clearest blue I had ever seen emerged in the distance. Coral edges poked out from beneath the glass bottom of our boat and offered a peek into the vast ocean world beneath us. The guides handed around snorkeling gear, and I plunged fearlessly into the miraculous waters of the Great Barrier Reef, forgetting the seasickness that had nearly wiped me out hours before. I wiped my goggles a few times to get a better look at the beautiful sea creatures around me. I gently stroked the back of a sea cucumber floating in the water and watched as schools of red, green, and yellow fish swam beside me. My body relaxed in the warm water. I felt transported as I swam to a small island and went ashore, finding myself a quiet corner to reflect in. A year earlier, I wouldn’t have believed that I’d travel halfway around the world by myself.
Later that evening, safe on land, I wrapped my arms around my knees and cuddled up in the sand, laughing about getting sick. (The one time I didn’t read the manual!) I was so happy that I had persevered to see one of the great wonders of the world. A sense of gratitude and connection seeped into my soul. I was not alone at all. I closed my eyes and said a prayer, asking God to heal the wounds of the past and make me new. To help me find love again and be bold in going after the treasures of my heart. I was teaching myself to tap into the sacred again, and I sought a genuine spiritual connection in the world. As I opened my eyes, the sky transformed into a stunning sight. Shades of pink and purple danced across the horizon. 
As the sun sank below the horizon, its warm glow melting into the colorful hues of the sky, a swarm of butterflies suddenly appeared and began to encircle me. With open arms, I ran along the edge of the beach as they danced and fluttered along beside me. It was as if they were responding to my prayers, offering my tattered spirit a symbol of hope and new beginnings. I felt freedom flow within my veins, the type of oasis I’d experienced when pirouetting across the dance floor. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I lifted my head to the sky and thanked God for hearing my prayers and giving me the faith to believe that one day, all my dreams would come true.
Copyright 2025 Jenn Todling
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Author Bio: Jenn Todling is an author, speaker, executive coach, as well as an adjunct instructor at the University of Denver as part of its Frontline Manager Leadership Program. Formerly an audit partner at a global Big 4 accounting firm with over twenty years of professional services experience and an ICF-certified transformational leadership coach for over ten years, Jenn helps her clients express their soul in their work and life. A lover of adventure, travel, and dance, she currently resides near her hometown of Boulder, Colorado, with her husband (and dance partner), and young daughter. Her debut memoir Dancing on My Own Two Feet will be available April 2025. Learn more at jenntodling.com.
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