i don’t know why i was so surprised to see the fireflies last night. i’m sure they have been out already without my noticing them. but it caught me off guard because they reminded me of my dad, of whom, i think about every minute of every day anyway.
when i was a little girl, okay young girl, smart-asses, my dad and i spent many a summer’s night catching fireflies and collecting them in jars. something about the way they lit up fascinated me. i just loved to see the tiny lights sparkling against the black summer sky. but more than anything, i loved that time alone with my pops. we would sit in the darkness together while he imparted his pearls of wisdom to me (“susanne, pearls, these are pearls, i’m giving you”) punctuated with my cries of, “hey there’s one, dad! did you see it?!”
it was always the same routine: after dinner, i would beg my mom to prematurely dump the contents out of a jar and wash it out for me. then i would trot off to my find my dad and drag him out to his “workshop” in the garage where he would punch air-holes in the metal lid. we would ceremoniously gather grass, leaves, and twigs to recreate the firefly’s natural habitat. once satisfied with the authenticity of the insect lodgings, we would run around for what seemed like hours gently catching the unsuspecting innocents in our cupped palms and then gingerly placing them in the jar. when i say gingerly, i mean stuffing them in the jar before they could escape my sticky 8 year old grip. when it was finally time for bed, and probably a shower, i would bring the jar into my room and set it beside my bed so i could watch the bright creatures glow until i happily drifted off to sleep. in the morning, after my father left for work, i would bring the jar outside and emancipate the critters, so we could start all over again that night.
to this day i am still thrilled when what i call “firefly season” begins and sad when it ends. sad not only, because these mini magical creatures are gone for another year, but because it signifies the end of the carefree days of summer and reminds me of a simpler time in my life. a simpler time i yearn to recapture.
so what i realized, is that we spend so much time, effort, and money trying to create the perfect memories for our children. we take them on lavish vacations or try to document every moment of their lives with every media imaginable, but what really matters is the small stuff. its so cliche, but so unshakably true. children don’t really want things (as much as they demand them), they really want our love and our undivided attention. the time spent together doing simple things is what matters most to the people in our lives. now that i no longer have my dad around, i am grateful for the memories i have of time spent with him, not the things he bought me or places he took me. just the simple time when i walked in the house and upon seeing me he said “what’s up susie, girl?” i would give up any amount of material possessions to hear that just once again because the unabashed, generous giving of himself, was my father’s greatest gift to me.
scientists tell us the reason fireflies light up their miniscule rear-ends is to signal a mate and to communicate with each other, but they really signaled me to pull out another sweet memory of my best friend from the recesses of my hippocampus. because even though his things remain with us, they are just things in the end. it’s the memories i have of him that comfort me and remind me that we did have a rich life together even if it the time was too short. to know the time we spent together was full and truly enjoyed.
so, please, keep lighting the way little ones, we can all use some extra light in the darkest of our nights.
