CATCHING LIGHTNING BUGS
When I
was a little girl, Granddad and I spent many summer evenings together sipping
lemonade and swinging back and forth on his metal porch glider. On one
such evening, I sat with him; and we watched the sun sink lower in the Missouri
sky, slowly draining away the light of day. The trees gradually became
silhouettes against a newly silver sky, its blue hue all but gone until
dawn. Their branches gently swayed in
the wind; and the first sound of the nocturnal creatures came—chirping
crickets, buzzing mosquitoes, a hooting owl, and a skittering rabbit taking
cover in the hedgerow. Soon it grew dark,
and a closeness and silence enveloped us.
Out of
nowhere a mysterious yellow twinkling appeared in the night, quick flickers and
crackles of incandescent light too fast for the naked eye. The soft warm glow of lightening bugs sliced
through the darkness, dipping beneath the black walnut trees. I was enchanted and imagined Granddad and I
had discovered the lair of a great magician.
“Want to catch lightening bugs?” Granddad
asked, a smile spreading over his face.
“Capture that magic?” My voice
quivered with excitement. “Can it be
done?”
Granddad looked at my face; hoisted
himself out of the swing; and fetched a Mason jar from his work shed, its lid
pierced with holes. We walked barefoot into
the darkness, following the flickering lights.
I ran toward them hoping to capture them, but in my eagerness they
escaped. Granddad cupped his hands and
lunged.
“Look!” he said, making a peep hole
into his hand. With my face pressed
against his thumbs, I caught my first close-up glimpse of a firefly.
The jar grew full; and when Granddad
tucked me in that night, he placed it beside my bed. The glow of the lightening bugs mesmerized
me; and long after everyone else was asleep, I was still wide awake watching
the golden lights flare in the darkness.
Now, so many years later, I’ve
forgotten most of the dolls and toys of my childhood. But the night Granddad and I caught
lightening bugs and made them into a nightlight is forever imprinted in me. And I’m reminded that there’s so much
ordinary magic dancing around the backyard.
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