Firefly Magic--Story #1

I told you there were two main reasons that fireflies are special to me.  I may not have told you that they both involve magic.  Here is story #1--although it contains magic, it is a true story.  That happens sometimes.

Magic.  Not the magic of wizards and dragons or the false magic of illusionists but real magic.  Magical moments so marvelous that we hold them in our hearts in a very special place.  Moments that will stay there forever, allowing us to take out the memory and remember the magic again and again.

Last night was one of those magical moments for me.   Our house had been full of people all day.  It had been a good day, one of laughter and visits, sharing and making plans.  But I was ready for some quiet time and by the way she was acting, so was Isabelle.  Isabelle is my three-year old grand-daughter; all the noise and action had left her in a fractious mood.  We both needed a time-out.

I had promised Isabelle that I would make pink popsicles and Isabelle does not forget something that important.  Quietly we sneaked a popsicle out of the freezer and headed for the back steps.  The sun had set and the backyard had a beautiful twilight glow.  The moon was already high and full and the lightning bugs had started blinking their night-time signals.  We sat for several minutes taking turns licking on the popsicle and getting sticky, pink sweetness all over us.  That’s the joy of popsicles with grand-daughters; the more mess, the better they taste. 

Between licks Isabelle informed me that the moon comes out to tell you it is time to go to bed.  I could see she was worried about this fact; bedtime loomed and the popsicle wasn’t finished yet.   But some rules are made to be broken at Memaw’s house and I told her that tonight Mr. Moon said she could stay up just a little longer.

As it got darker and the popsicle grew smaller, Isabelle started talking about the lightning bugs.  “Memaw,” she said.  “We have to scare the lightning bugs.”  We do, I asked?  Why is that?  “So they will light up.”  With a dripping popsicle in one hand, Isabelle started tippy-toeing across the yard.  At just the right spot, she threw up her free hand and whispered, “Boo!”  Quietly she sat back down, her job done.  And yes, the lightning bugs were so scared that they flashed on and off, on and off.

At that precise moment, I could feel the magic.  The moon was fuller and the stars twinkled like silver and gold.  The night sounds were the sweetest music; the bullfrogs harmonizing with the crickets. The lightning bugs were flashing brighter than I had ever seen.  For Isabelle this was just another night with Memaw, but I knew better.  I felt the magic of a beautiful night and a little girl’s imagination, lightning bugs and pink popsicles.