It was almost dark. I am in a t-shirt and yoga pants. I am barefoot with a cordless drill. I give you permission to laugh. I am sure the neighbors do.
I was halfway finished with my porch redecorating. I am famous for distractions.
Something catches my eye. I see a few flashes of light. Lightning bugs!
All of a sudden, I am 7 years old on Smith Hill again.
I apologize if there are less of them these days.
I did my fair share of catching them as a child. Mason jars held the damage I did. Mother even paid for us to have fancy catchers that had our names painted on them.
I remember laying on my back in the grass to watch them blink with my brothers and the neighborhood kids.
I caught one tonight. (Without injuring myself, I might add.)
I did not dissect it like my brother used to. Still gross. 40 years later.
I let it go.
I sat on the porch and thought about how you don’t see them like you used to. In all fairness, I also realize I don’t slow down to look much either.
I am about to go in.
Wish we had been able to catch “skeeters” years ago.