Familiar Glow

So, for the past three weeks the weather has been warm enough for me to start looking for fireflies. I know before I say anything about it, or even before I look, that it’s too early. The thing is, I spend weeks looking and when they finally come out, I’m always taken by surprise. The feeling I get when I see the first firefly of summer is still that magical feeling I got when I was five.

There’s that sudden excitement and recognition at the impression that there is still wonder in this world. There’s that vision of deep blue sky and dark dewy grass meeting to form that beautiful horizon of a peaceful dusk–right when the silhouettes of the trees and the hills are darker than the sky. There’s that slow hum of the earth caught in the moments just between day and night. There was always a perfect balance to those moments and they gave me a sense of security like nothing else could. I waited for the fireflies, I looked for them, and they came. The way they would rise from the earth just during that brief time would instill in me such awe and curiosity. The very idea that they could lie in wait all day and come out only just at dusk to greet the world at its most peaceful time almost made me envious. It still does sometimes. I think I felt that they were coming out for me, to reassure me that all was still right with the world and that simple things can shine too. I used to imagine being a firefly. I’d have no troubles, no pains; I’d just lie and wait to be beautiful, to be some child’s hope.

I guess I still look to the fireflies to find my peace sometimes. That’s why I can never seem to wait for them to show up each summer. The anticipation of reliving those sanctified moments of my childhood gets the better of me. I know that they’re there all day waiting to fulfill my expectations, waiting to illuminate my dreary little life, waiting to remind me that I can find peace. I just have to wait.

~ by whatssofunny on June 5, 2008.