I’ve been thinking a lot about fireflies. Like most children, I collected them between my cupped palms on warm summer nights and placed them in a jar next to my bed. When I woke up in the morning, they were always dead. You’d think I’d figure out that trapping a living creature in a jar makes an unhappy ending, but I can be a little possessive. Logic takes a vacation when it comes to something I covet. THIS time will be different, I tell myself. THIS time the fireflies will be alive and happy to see me when I wake up.

I’m not sure exactly what age I stopped chasing fireflies, but I’d guess it was around the same time I started chasing boys. Funny how I made the same mistakes. I was pretty good at capturing them, but once they were mine, I held on too tight, and woke up disappointed. Any guess on how long it took me to realize the problem and correct it? The light bulb came on last week. Thirty years of self sabotage. Okay, that is not fair, I’ve recognized the problem for at least ten years, but the voice in my head offered false assurances, THIS time will be different.

I heard that voice again last weekend as I stared into a set of beautiful blue eyes that sparkled with light like a firefly. Instantly, I was transported to a field in early summer feeling warm, safe, and happy. I continue to smile now thinking about our time together. The familiar voice whispers in my head, THIS time might REALLY be different, but I know better. This time, I call out the flaws in my past logic, and tread cautiously with an eye toward survival. If this relationship gets messed up, I promise myself it won’t be because I trapped him until he couldn’t breathe. He will fly freely as I calmly enjoy each moment, and if I remember correctly, through patience and trust, the firefly will come to you.