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.


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3 responses to “Magic

  1. Me neither! I wish we had them here. I saw some last summer and was jumping up and down.

  2. It’s so weird to hear that people grow up without fireflies. Many a summer evening was spent running around the yard catching fireflies. They are wonderful memories.

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