|Image: suphakit73 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net|
Emmy was already sound asleep, and Lily had on her pajamas. I glanced out the patio door at the fading light, and saw a glimmer. I grabbed Lily’s hand and we walked out the door together onto the deck and into the yard. The tall, cool grass tickled our ankles. “Why did you bring me out here?” a puzzled Lily asked me. She had expected me to take her to bed.
“Look around,” I answered her. “Do you see anything?”
We spent a few seconds scanning the darkening yard. “Fireflies!” Lily exclaimed. “Can we catch some?”
We spent the next few minutes trying to catch those elusive blinking lights, but they were few and far between. Our fingers brushed the cool evening air; our cupped palms remained empty. For some reason, the fireflies were not as plentiful and easy to catch as I remembered from my own childhood. Maybe it was still too light outside or too early in the summer. I was determined to catch a firefly for Lily.
Stretching up on my tip-toes, my upheld hand cupped around a little light and the bug landed on my fingers. “Got one!”
Lily held out her hand as I lowered the lightning bug down to her level. The firefly flew from my hand to hers. It was as if that little fellow knew that Lily wanted to see him up close. He crawled on her hand, flew from the tips of her fingers to mine. I lifted my hand to let him fly off into the night.
Pleased that she had caught one little speck of light, Lily came inside with me and I put to her bed way past her bedtime.
She fell asleep quickly, dreaming firefly dreams.
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