Sometimes, we get so busy that we forget to pause; we forget that it is June and the lightning bugs are back.
The woods are full of swarming wonder, lights blinking everywhere at once.
In bygone days, when I was little, I sat on the stoop, waiting; I waited for those winged creatures to come out and dance for me.
I danced too when they came, running barefoot in the grass, happy to be outside in my pajamas.
I was eager to fill my jar with light-up bugs; I poked holes in the top to make sure they were okay.
I always let them go when it was time for bed, and later, I taught my children to do the same.
Sometimes, we get so busy that we forget to pause; June is a merry month of weddings and graduations, hydrangeas that bloom as blue as the summer sky.
Most of all, I want to sit on the stoop and watch and wait before I miss it all; those light-up bugs still call my name from time to time.
Like the month of June, heralding summer, the carefree days will slip by, all that blinking light fading into fall.
