7/19/2022
I wanted to catch a firefly. Not because I wanted to capture it, pull it from its friends or family. It was a jealous wish, my attempt to capture one for a Pinterest worthy photo. For two nights, I’d watch in the post heat storm humidity for lights to start, one flash at a time. As much as I tried, I fell flat. No firefly, but still time outside with mancub 2, running like childhood would never end.
I resolved that the reclusive firefly catch just wasn’t meant to happen, convinced myself of my silliness, still ever grateful for the space shared with a growing young man.
The next morning, stumbling about in the early waking hours, I noticed it. One lone firefly must have stumbled, too? Above the front door, a lone firefly was perched. There it was, waiting. I jarred him safely, fed and watered and placed by our sunniest of windows awaiting nightfall, praying there’d be no evening rain. Praying we’d do all the right things to steward this fella back to safety outdoors, back to its friends and family, that it’d illuminate the night again.
Hour by hour, we check, looking deep through the glass, his safe space, watching for movement.
Night returned. It returned. Safe to the outdoors. His light still shining bright.
