I walked out onto the front porch last night and was greeted with the magical luminescence of a dozen fireflies floating, seemingly ethereally, in the air. It was one of those moments that was just….perfect. I didn’t hear any of the normal neighborhood noises, the sun had just taken its last rays behind the Blue Ridge Mountains, and the air was still. I actually sat down on the steps and watched them for a minute.
I saw my first firefly when I was 16 or so, and was visiting my mother who, at the time, was living in Albany, NY. I grew up, and lived in California and fireflies were something that I had only read about. Enviously, I might add. I was amazed that they really existed the first time I stepped outside and saw the fleeting orange glow, and it took me several seconds to understand what I was seeing. And I just sat and watched.
I don’t think they will ever lose their magic to me.