Fireflies

July 10, 2019

They wink their way through the deepening dusk, tiny neon signs flickering in our yard. Linda and I were sitting on the patio watching the fireflies advertise their availability for a mate. They’re pretty amazing little critters. Scientists have studied them, investigating the chemical composition of their abdomens, trying to figure out their secrets. I haven’t kept current with their investigations, so I haven’t a clue as to how they do it. I don’t think I’d be any less amazed if I could rattle off the explanation behind their glow.

When I was a kid, we’d chase them through the darkness, catching them in mason jars with holes punched in the lids with ice picks. We’d watch them till we tired of the sport, then let them go. I doubt if I could even find an ice pick in any of our drawers today. 

It has been a beautiful evening. I pitched kickball for the kids in the park for nearly two hours. I wasn’t sad when the pickup teams slowly drifted away; the kink in my back was protesting steadily by the time we were done. But when I got home, Linda was sitting on the patio reading. “Want a cup of coffee?” was her much welcomed greeting. So we sat and talked and watched the fireflies; a simple thing, but a peaceful gift many never experience. The light faded into darkness, the sensor on the flagpole kicked in, illuminating it and the garden below in a soft light reflecting the glow in my heart, and I am thankful.