Once upon a time in the land of Enchantment, on a high plateau in the middle of the desert lived three pretty great looking Mamacitas. Evil princes had bewitched them and made them believe they were very stupid beings hardly capable of driving off the plateau. However something magical happened when they finally met each other and began walking together across the mesa speaking of their dreams, which were not stupid at all. The more they walked together, the more real their dreams became. Excited, they ran home to tell their princes, who promptly put them all on mood altering drugs or locked them up in faraway towers.
Those mamacitas were pretty sad.
They thought the magic was gone. they thought their friends were gone. So they, all three picked up their magic paintbrushes and began to paint each other and the dreams they had shared. They painted stacks of paintings. Mountains of paintings. Enough paintings that they hid their mood altering drugs, climbed down from their towers and ran as fast as they could to city of Santa Fe. They ran straight into each others arms laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. their dreams swirled around them spinning into sparkling realities. They danced and sang and ate a lot of sweet things. They vowed to never return to the haunted plateau and live happily ever after. sometimes their dreams took them away from each other, but they always danced back together again to share more dreams and spin them into sparkly realities.
These mamacitas were dancing happy.
One day though, one of those happy dancers wanted to dance back up to that place. She did and the horrid princes cursed her. they beat her and called her stupid...and her heart broke into a hundred tiny pieces. Each and every single piece became a beautiful mariposa that fluttered down to the two remaining Mamacitas. They looked with tear filled faces on the beautiful mariposas, seeing how they sparkled like no other butterflies had ever sparkled. They knew their friend had moved to another place way beyond the Sangre de Cristos. They cried for so long that the Rio Grande overflowed its banks and the Pueblos on the river came to them and begged them to stop. When they did, the mariposas were all gone and the full blue moon, which had been a special love of their friend, rose high over their heads and whispered that their friend was safe and happy and no one would ever beat her or make her hurt again.
The mamacitas were quiet.
They dusted off their dreams as well as a few of their beloved friends dreams and began to sing to them as they walked the mesa. They are still walking. They are still singing their dreams and if you are very quiet on nights of the full blue moon, you will hear a bit of their song and perhaps you may even see, in the glittering blue moonlight, a very sparkly mariposa.
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