Cue the fireflies. Summer has arrived.
Every summer, I am homesick for my little friends who turned the warm evenings of my Virginia girlhood into magic skies. I’m homesick not just for the fun of catching them and then letting them go, but for the way they winked thank you lights at me as they flew away, never seeming to go too far. I like to think that was because they trusted me to always release them quickly.
I miss them for the actual light they bring, like little signs flashing good news. This year, they must have been feeling my longing for them, because they have been sending me light.
First, there was my missing Sunday newspaper that I had mentioned in a column. It had disappeared from my driveway several times. I jokingly asked whoever was taking it to please leave my column, which I like to clip and save.
Magically, my paper returned – only no longer in my driveway. Someone has been kindly moving it to my courtyard where it is not visible from the street and bonus, I only have to walk a few steps to fetch it. I also heard from many readers offering to send me the clipping I had missed. Thanks to Tina from Huntington Beach, I have it safely in hand.
Then there was the day a driver actually stopped to let me cut into his lane so I could make the left-hand turn I had missed. It may not have been such a big deal elsewhere, but here in California where people covet their cars and are always in a hurry to get somewhere, it was an unexpected slice of generosity.
A few days later, an inspector came to my house to check on the restoration of property that had been damaged in the Eaton fire. As I showed her around, she told me her parents were also seniors, and she knew navigating the insurance system could be stressful. “Call me if you need help,” she said with sincerity, and added her number to my phone. She was in touch several times, offering helpful suggestions. When I sent her a thank-you note, she responded
“Well, I’m offering friendship. I appreciate meeting authentic people. God bless you.”
Thanks to the lightning bugs from back home, I am starting to feel a little of the carefree glee of summer evenings spent running toward their light carrying a glass jar with holes punched in the lid.
“Don’t run with glass in your hand,” my mother’s voice played in my head.
Almost as soon as I got them into the jar, I looked forward to releasing them, which I did quickly. This week, they returned the favor by sending me light in the form of kind strangers.
As I read about and watch unspeakable acts of violence on the news, I ask the fireflies to send light to a world in desperate need.
Email [email protected]. Follow her on Patriciabunin.com
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