It’s that time again. Time for the fireflies to arrive. Every year I find myself anxiously anticipating the first sighting and last week — there it was – the first firefly of the season. All was right with the world.
I have a funny relationship with these magical little creatures. I find them so fascinating. I always have.
For some strange reason, memories of my childhood are few and far between – so the ones I have are special. Perhaps one of the most vivid memories is of visiting my grandmother in Oklahoma during summer vacations. It was my mother’s childhood home (or should I say dairy farm) – but by the time I was old enough to remember, the farm had been converted into a golf course. My grandmother lived on the back of the property in a small white house that had been converted from one of the barns. It had a big back porch, a screen door to slam and lots of room to run.
I recall the rough, dry grass tickling my feet and I remember laughing. I remember chigger bites on my ankles and the smell of the cedar trees. I remember red clay soil and July 4th fireworks. But most of all, I remember running with my sister in fields — Mason jars in hand – determined to catch fireflies. And we always did.
I was never one of those kids who wanted to squish these wonderful little creatures and use their glowing insides for war paint. No, I was the one who lovingly poked holes in the top of a jar that I had filled with grass, hoping they would feel at home. Their captivity was typically short lived – as I quickly determined they “light up” less frequently when confined to a jar. Even as a child, I understood that we all shine brighter and more frequently when we are free to live in our natural surroundings. So, I’d let them go.
In the years since, my fascination with these wonderful bugs has never waned. I have spent hours sitting on the shore of the Chesapeake Bay mesmerized by the trees as they flash on and off as if they were filled with tiny white blinking Christmas lights. I have lived in places that have no fireflies and have tried to explain the phenomenon to those who have never seen such a thing. I have watched children and adults react with the same excitement when they see one for the first time. It’s the funniest thing.
Yes, all this nostalgia has a point.
I met someone recently who described me as a firefly. To me, it was the highest form of praise imaginable – and it made me think.
I too, know people I would characterize as fireflies. People who go unnoticed in the glare of sunlight – but given the right circumstances, they give off a spectacular glow. They are not typically “flashy” people. Quite the opposite really. They don’t really try to shine – it’s just who they are. It’s part of their being. The source of their light is often mysterious – or at least not obvious – but they are undeniably attractive to be around.
So, the next time you enjoy a cool summer drink on your back porch be sure to watch for fireflies. And likewise, as you scurry through your hectic and busy life – be sure to watch for people with similar qualities. You’ll know who they are. They are the people – like fireflies in June – you look forward to seeing and simply enjoy their existence while they are around.
