When I was a kid, I thought fireflies (or lightning bugs) were myths, like unicorns and dragons.  Seriously.  You see, I grew up in south Florida and I never saw a firefly.  As far as I know, they don’t live in south Florida.  I never saw snow until I was eighteen, but for some reason, I believed it was real.  Not so the little firefly.  The first time I saw a firefly was in Tennessee after Jay and I had gotten engaged and I’d gone to meet his family.  I saw these flashing lights in the trees and wondered aloud what they were.  He probably thought I was nuts, since I was 23 years old and certainly old enough to know fireflies were real.  (He married me anyway.) I was as delighted to see my first firefly as I was to see my first snowfall.  How awesome to watch these tiny little bugs flash-flash-flashing against the dark night sky.

Each year since then-- because since getting married I have always lived where there are fireflies-- I make a wish on the first firefly of the year.  Kind of like shooting stars, I suppose-- which is what I sometimes think I’m seeing out of the corner of my eye.  I still marvel at them and when one gets in the house, I make sure to catch it and release it outside, watching it flash in my hand the entire time.  (I have a catch-and-release philosophy for all bugs that get in the house, except ants and roaches, but none mesmerize me like the firefly.)

I saw my first firefly of the year about half an hour ago and I made my wish.  It’s a smaller wish than wishing on a star.  After all, fireflies are so much smaller than shooting stars, but it was a nice wish.

I believe in fireflies and I believe wishes can come true.

Posted by Kristina in Musings in Life at 12:05 AM Permalink 4 comments