Dispatch 14
I was going to call this dispatch “Ode to the Humble Lightning Bug” but after thinking on it a bit, I don’t think the lightning bug is very humble.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think it takes anything away from lightning bugs. Let me explain.
I grew up with lightning bugs. I spent many summer nights catching the luminous insects and putting them in jars done up to be cozy little firefly motels. I watched them for what seemed like a long time whenever I was allowed to be out late enough to encounter them.
That means I saw lightning bugs on camping trips and when I spent time at my grandparents’ house. I saw fireflies when I was at scout camp and, when I was older, on late-night fishing trips. Good times. Special times.
I think my title was equating “humble” with nostalgia.
The truth is, fireflies aren’t very humble. There you are, sitting in the dark, minding your own business, and suddenly this bug just shows up and, just in case you missed it because you were busy listening to the buzzing mosquito over there about to suck your blood, it lights up. “Here I am! Look at me!”
Not very humble.
All right. I know the lightning bugs aren’t lighting up for my benefit. And I’d rather see a firefly than hear a mosquito any night. I’m just playing around.
I haven’t lived where fireflies live for many years. Decades, in fact. I’ve been on many camping trips and been out lots of nights without seeing a lightning bug.
Recently, I was camping far from home. The tent was set up and the fire was lit. Dinner was done and all cleaned up. I sat in the gloaming, enjoying the cool of the evening and the warmth of the fire.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash. I looked up into the dark trees to see many flashing lights. Lightning bugs. All around.
My delight was real. I hope you’ll forgive me for being a little fanciful, but there is something about fireflies that tickles my soul. I’m not ashamed to say that I sat there until I could no longer keep my eyes open, watching the little lights dance in the air.
I could tell you a story of being transported to my grandparents’ backyard on a warm summer night, Ball jar in hand, but I think I’m just going to think about tiny lights floating in the dark trees and let you think your own thoughts.
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