Summer Memory: Fireflies

Authors and poets often stir up memories of my own; this little essay brings a delightful summer memory of evenings with my mom and dad on the lake in Doe Valley. Sitting quietly and reflectively on the gazebo, we enjoyed the our own "World of Wonders" - the dance of the flickering fireflies as the evening dew settled on the blades of grass below. 

From Aimee's World of Wonders: I know I will search for fireflies all the rest of my days, even though they dwindle a little bit more each year. I can’t help it. They blink on and off, a lime glow to the summer night air, as if to say: I am still here, you are still here, I am still here, you are still here, I am, you are, over and over again. 

Perhaps I can will it to be true. Perhaps I can keep those summer nights with my family inside an empty jam jar, with holes poked in the lid, a twig and a few strands of grass tucked inside. And for those unimaginable nights in the future, when I know I’ll miss my mother the most, I will let that jar’s sweet glow serve as a night-light to cool and cut the air for me.

Excerpt From: Aimee Nezhukumatathil. “World of Wonders.”