I’ve Got Fireflies

I have known fireflies before, though they were never as close as they are to me now. As a child, we would pack into the car and drive from Los Angeles to Illinois every other summer, where my family owned a campground. At night the trees would flicker with tiny green lights. I loved watching them, but I was too afraid to get close. I never tried to catch one, never dared to cup that glow in my hands. Their light belonged to the night, not to me.

Years later, when I lived in Atlanta, I would see them again. Sometimes while walking, sometimes while riding my bike, they would appear like small sparks rising out of the grass. I always felt lucky to spot them, but it was never more than a passing moment, a gift that faded as quickly as it arrived.

Now it is different. Now we live together. The fireflies share my backyard, my garden, my trees and plants. When I go out at night to water, they rise all around me, drifting and circling as if they are as curious about me as I am about them. I am no longer afraid. They feel no different than a ladybug settling briefly on my arm. I may jump at first, but then we settle into the moment together.

I have worked hard to make my backyard a safe place. I plant flowers that attract bees. I try to give butterflies a comfortable home. I keep water nearby for the dragonflies. The birds visit the feeders. A turtle has made my pond its own. But the fireflies have found their way into a soft spot I did not know I had.

I look for them every night. Sometimes I sit at my lounge window waiting for that first quick flash in the yard. When they are fewer, I worry. When they return in full, I feel myself glowing right along with them. They lift me when I am low, they entertain me when I am restless, and sometimes they come so close it feels like they are trying to follow me inside. I guide them back out gently, telling them this is their home, not mine.

I could learn how they work. I could look up the science behind their glow. But I do not. I do not need to know. What matters is how they make me feel. They remind me that not everything needs to be explained. Sometimes it is enough just to stand in wonder. Sometimes it is enough to appreciate what is before us, to let it be beautiful, and to try, in return, to be the best human we can be (that was a VERY forced metaphor.)

And that is the gift the fireflies have given me.